Stranger in Paradise
by Geeky BMWW Fan
Summary: AU. BMWW. The Amazons are forced to raise a boy on their island who just might be the key to ending an ancient curse that could lead to the destruction of the world. My 1st action story.
1. Prologue: The End

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thank you, Kipling-Nori, for the beta. In thanks, have a strawberry daiquiri. Or perhaps you would prefer a vodka martini, extra dry with three olives? Also, thank you, Hepburn, for letting me bounce off tons of ideas on you and for providing me with some information that will lead to a better story for all involved.

So, I came to the decision that I needed to write a story that wasn't solely about a romance between BMWW, a story that had an actual case that needed to be solved and bad guys to defeat. This is it (though for all you BMWW fans, there will be plenty of that as well). Apart from being my first action story, it is also set in an AU, where Bruce, after the death of his parents, is raised in Themyscira, like Aresia was in some JLU episode that I can't remember. I am a huge fan of mythology, particularly of the Greek variety, and the gods and goddesses will be playing an expanded role in this fiction. Where possible, I try to include the classic stories as is, but I will twist them for my own purposes **:D**. Same thing with the comic book history of the Amazons. Since this is an AU, I've given myself latitude to do so, though I'm trying not to stray too far from the source material.

The prologue might be more accessible to those who are familiar with Greek mythology. This will be the only chapter set in the past and with unfamiliar characters. After that, you will recognize all of the characters from the comic books/tv show. I try to be as clear as possible. If you have questions, let me know. **:D** Just in case you weren't aware, Troy and Ilium are the same place. And the Greeks were also known as the Achaeans.

**Warning**: this chapter contains unsavory events that have come to be associated with the fall of any kind of kingdom, namely rape and pillage. I'm not graphic, but still, it's not something that is very pleasant, either to write or read about.

Without further ado...

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Prologue:**

**The End**

* * *

Unseen by mortal eyes, the goddess stood upon the city wall, gazing upon the empty streets of Troy as its inhabitants slumbered.

Ten years she had waited for this moment—ever since the Trojan prince Paris had given the golden apple to the goddess of love, preferring the gift of Aphrodite over those offered by Hera and Athena. That gift was the lovely Helen, already the wife of Menelaus, king of Sparta. But that made no difference to Paris or Aphrodite. As a guest in the king's home, Paris seduced Helen, whisking her away to Ilium, setting into motion the greatest war the world had ever seen. Led by Menelaus' brother, Agamemnon, the Greek army had launched a thousand ships to reclaim the unfaithful wife. Allied with the kings of the Greek city states and supported by the spurned goddesses, Agamemnon and Menelaus had waged war upon Troy these last ten years.

Ten years of betrayal, blood, and death. One by one, the heroes of both sides fell. Patroclus, Hector, Achilles, Paris, and hundreds of others who no one would ever remember.

And there were many more to come.

Ten years, and now the end. The goddess shook her head at the waste.

A creaking noise from the middle of the large city captured Athena's attention. There stood an enormous wooden horse, a gift from the Greeks, dedicated as an offering to the great goddess Athena. The horse's belly opened, and thousands of Greek soldiers poured out of its side—the same Greek soldiers that the Trojans believed had sailed from their shores, defeated, just that very day. Thinking that they had won the war, the Trojans had celebrated. Wine flowed freely as the long-suffering citizens of Troy drank themselves into a false sense of security and, eventually, sleep.

A grim smile settled on the goddess's mouth, the only sign of her appreciation for the cunning and guile of the Greeks.

"You could still stop this, Athena."

The most radiant of the gods appeared beside her, as still and implacable as any marble statue but infinitely more beautiful. Athena barely acknowledged the golden being. "It is inevitable. There can be no other ending."

"And no winners."

Athena finally threw a wary glance at Apollo. As the god of prophecy, his cryptic remarks carried more weight with her than the other gods' offhand comments.

"Why is that?"

"Do you really believe that this will end tonight? The war will be over, but there can never be peace between the Trojans and the Achaeans. This is Troy's last night, but by the end, you will wish that they had won. You've chosen to ally yourself with the wrong people, Athena. You should have chosen our side." Artemis, Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite, Ares: our side. Athena almost smiled at the bitterness implicit in his words.

But Apollo was right, and Athena knew too much of the world to object.

The Greeks had already defiled her Trojan temple, slaying her guards in the process. With bloodied hands, they stole the image of herself—the Palladium—she had given to the founder of Troy so many years ago. Her hatred for Troy was so great that she had allowed it, because without the Palladium, the Greeks would never win. She had spared their lives because the abomination was necessary. No city with the Palladium would ever fall.

And yet, in the end, Athena knew it would all be for nothing. It would not matter that she had preferred the Greeks or that she had battled by their side for a decade to reach this day. All the stratagems and battle plans that she had devised and inspired would be rendered futile. Ilium would be destroyed, but the Trojans would establish Rome, and Rome would rule the world.

For the first time in all her existence, the ageless one was weary. "Perhaps I did choose the wrong side."

Together they watched as the Greeks slayed the sleeping guards along the walls of the citadel. The gates were flung wide open, and the incoming stream of warriors seemed never-ending. The disciplined troops began to fan out all over the slumbering city.

"You will make amends."

As Athena opened her mouth to ask his meaning, a blood-curdling yell pierced the silence and Apollo vanished. His words would remain a mystery for now, forgotten as fire started to devour Troy from within.

At first, the soldiers of Ilium put up a fight. Aeneas, the greatest of the Trojan warriors since the death of Hector, roused all the soldiers he could find and was planning one last stand. For all the good it would do him.

As the flames crawled higher and higher, Athena floated through the conflagration untouched and unseen, watching the other gods hard at work. Poseidon was pushing and pulling at the very foundations of Troy, so that the city swayed side to side, on the verge of toppling over. Ares had no fixed spot, but darted around, feeding on the destruction around him, all the while flaming the soldiers' bloodlust. At the entrance to the city, Hera ushered in more and more Greek soldiers, while high atop the citadel's walls, Artemis spurred the Trojans on to a glorious death. She could not see Apollo or Hades, but she knew they were there, along with a host of other gods and goddesses. Lastly, she saw Aphrodite protecting a family from the fighting around them.

There was little for Athena to do, so she sat back and observed.

The Achaeans showed no restraint as they destroyed Ilium. There was nothing left untouched, nothing considered sacred. Children lay slaughtered in the streets, their grandparents' lifeless bodies sprawled around them. Brute beasts forced themselves on countless women, sometimes over the still-warm corpses of the husbands and fathers who had died defending them. Soldiers were looting the dead, stripping them of their armor or anything else that caught their fancy.

Athena made her way over to the Trojan palace. She saw the aged King Priam, wearing armor that no longer fit his shrunken body. His wife was begging him not to fight, to join her and their daughters, who all sat huddled at the altar of Zeus in the hope of obtaining mercy.

Instead, they witnessed Achilles' son, Pyrrhus, drive a spear through one of their sons, causing his blood to splatter on their clothes and faces. Enraged, Priam threw his spear at the murderer. He lacked the strength to cause any real damage—the weapon stuck fast into Pyrrhus' shield, vibrating harmlessly. The younger man laughed at the king's impotence, calmly removed the spear and killed the venerable Priam, beheading him on Zeus' altar.

Athena had seen enough. Thoroughly disgusted, she flew to her own temple. What she saw there caused her heart to blaze.

Clinging to her statue was Cassandra, a maiden daughter of King Priam. She too had sought refuge in a temple, and like her family, she had found none.

Ajax, the commander of the Locrian contingent of Greece's army, was diligently at work, removing the princess's clothing. Determined to do a thorough job, he had even tied her hands, so she couldn't fight back. Not that she could have; he easily dwarfed the delicate daughter of Priam. Cassandra pleaded with him to stop, to consider his impiety, but he refused to listen, his mind set on evil. With his soldiers laughing and egging him on, Ajax, raped her.

The virgin goddess's fingers tightened around the grip of the shield that rested against her thigh. The sight stirred old memories: Medusa and Poseidon having sex in the hallowed walls of her temple. When Athena had found them, she made sure that Poseidon, and everyone else, would never look at the beautiful nymph again—unless they wanted to be turned to stone. After Perseus had beheaded the now hideous Medusa, Athena had mounted her head on her battle shield. A wave of satisfaction washed over her as she felt the snakes of the Gorgon's head brushing against her wrist.

She raised her shield, intent on turning every last one of them to stone. She took a step forward but was halted by someone touching her shoulder.

Athena's head snapped to see who was disturbing her.

At her side was Artemis, goddess of the hunt and Apollo's sister.

Athena brushed her aside. "I cannot allow this to continue."

Artemis stepped in front of Athena and placed a threatening hand on her chest. She was so furious that her skin was sparkling incandescently, though her voice was glacial and unbending. "But you will."

Out of all the gods, Artemis was the last one Athena would have expected to step in. Artemis, who like Athena, valued virginity above all else. Who had killed a man for even seeing her naked. Whose eyes shone murderously as she watched Cassandra being defiled. Whose fingers were now twitching at her side, aching to string her bow and end the soldiers' disgusting lives.

Conceding, Athena lowered her shield and took a step back. "Where's Apollo?"

"He couldn't watch."

Of course not, Athena groused. He had loved Cassandra, and had given her the gift of prophecy. But when she had spurned him, he turned his blessing into a curse. Even though she could see the future—had predicted Hector's death and the betrayal of the Greeks—no one ever believed a word she said.

And it was no different tonight.

By now Ajax had finished and Cassandra was slumped over at the base of Athena's statue, crushing the floral offerings that had been placed there. She made no attempt to hide her nakedness or the large purple bruises that were forming all over her pale skin. The ribbons that had decorated her lovely hair had been torn from her head, and her disheveled locks streamed around her. Her eyes wildly searched the temple, overlooking her rapist and those who had celebrated her ruin. They finally settled on the two goddesses, though both knew it was impossible for Cassandra to see them. The princess raised her still pinioned hands to the heavens and groaned.

"Look, goddesses, look at what has befallen me. Me, your most devout worshiper, who refused all men, even a god, so that I would find favor in your sight. I came here for protection only to be vanquished and crushed. But for all that has happened to me, worse will happen to those who defile your worshipers. What has befallen Troy will seem pleasurable in comparison."

Someone in the crowd yelled out, "Prophesy, wench. Tell us our future." The whole company of soldiers burst into laughter, hoping to provoke more frenzied ravings from the unhinged princess.

Ajax walked over and slapped her roughly across the face, but she ignored it, continuing to look off into the distance. Standing up, she began to laugh, her mirth bubbling over uncontrollably. She practically shrieked with joy as she saw the futures that lay ahead of them. "Yes, goddesses, I see the homes they'll never enter. Within sight of their land, the waters will rise up and choke them, bringing them down to the depths, a death too good for them. They will be remembered throughout the world, not for defeating the Trojans, but for being a godless, deceitful, and treacherous people. Let Ajax and his Locrian army curse the day they ever thought of Troy. And the one who lives…" Cassandra began to tremble with delight, her dark eyes glowing like coals. "Yes! His descendants will be cursed forever, an abomination to all men, fighting against the Trojans, until Love's fruit brings an end, first to itself, and then, remade, to that which Love began."

Ajax hit her again, hard enough this time that she fell to the ground, putting an end to her prophecy. "Out of all the daughters of Priam, I had to find the lunatic."

He threw her clothes in her face. "Get dressed. My comrades are dying to meet you." Once she had put on her robes, he threw her over his shoulder. Cassandra thrashed against him and stretched her arms out toward the goddesses as Ajax carried her out of the temple, but Artemis and Athena remained immobile. The soldiers followed behind their leader and his prize, mocking the Trojan princess.

Athena closed her eyes, envisioning their doom. "Now that I think of it, I will enjoy their deaths more this way. They will see their homes and think they're safe, and die in the middle of their triumph. And if they are lost at sea, no one can perform the burial rituals. They will never find rest."

Artemis chuckled in approval. "I would ask to help, but I have other things to take care of. No doubt you will see that they receive a worthy sending off."

"Of course. Some other time, then."

Artemis departed, leaving Athena in her temple. However, the goddess of wisdom was not alone. One of Ajax's soldiers had stayed behind. Making sure that no one was around, he ran up to her altar and, with bloodied hands, started taking the gold and silver ornaments that decorated the instrument of worship, wrapping them up in the linen cloth that lay across the top of the altar.

Athena just smiled and let him continue. She had special plans for this one.

When the altar was stripped bare, the thief formed a sack, throwing the valuables over his shoulder. He cautiously made his way to the temple doors and stole out into the darkness. The fighting still raged, and he was so burdened down with the treasures that he kept stumbling. She saw the fear in his eyes as he quickly dashed into one of the abandoned houses to hide. Clearly, he had no plans to rejoin his regiment.

This suited Athena perfectly. She had been intrigued by Cassandra's last words. And if all the soldiers were on the boat, the goddess would never know what it had all meant. Yes, she would make sure that the wretch lived a long life, or at least live long enough to provide an heir.

Athena stationed herself across from the house's entrance, atop another building, overlooking what was left of Troy. The fires were still devouring the city. The dirt of the streets was stained dark red, and the stench of death hung in the air, mingled with the aroma of charred buildings and flesh. With the outcome of the war now a foregone conclusion, most of the gods had left. Only Apollo and Aphrodite remained.

Athena knew the god of light was waiting to see what would happen to Cassandra. Aphrodite's reason for staying was less clear, but it must have been connected to the family she had been protecting earlier. It had been a group of three: an older man, a young boy, and one of Priam's daughters. Athena only recognized Princess Creusa. But since Athena had seen them last, the woman had disappeared, only to be replaced by the Trojan warrior Aeneas.

Now it made sense. Aeneas was Aphrodite's son, the product of an affair she had with the older man, who was now being carried through the destruction on Aeneas' back. The young boy was Aeneas' son with Creusa, Ascanius. He clung to his father's hand, as Aphrodite shepherded them in Athena's direction, towards an old temple near the entrance to the city.

A sound from across the way caught Athena's attention. Her little thief had decided to follow the lucky survivors.

Though they could not see Aphrodite and probably did not even know she was there, Athena knew how much the family was indebted to the goddess of love. They passed through flame and sword, unscathed and untroubled. As most of the fighting was taking place in the heart of Troy, Aphrodite led them to a valley located outside of the city. There, hidden within the hills and old cypress trees, stood an old temple dedicated to Demeter. Aeneas put his family down and began looking around him, first calmly, but then in frenzied panic. Without a word, he bolted from the temple, running at full pelt back towards the inferno.

Athena stopped paying attention to the scavenger, intrigued by Aeneas' actions. It didn't make sense. After escaping the chaos, why return? But his reasons became clear when Aeneas began desperately calling for his wife.

Once he reached the city, he ran wildly through the streets, retracing his steps. He raced all over, towards the places where the fighting was fiercest, narrowly escaping death multiple times. But he was unaware of it all.

It was foolish, Athena reflected. Why has Aphrodite allowing her son to act so recklessly after she had just gone through the trouble of saving him? It was all so mystifying, and yet, thoroughly engrossing.

Suddenly, Creusa reappeared. She no longer needed Aeneas' help.

The warrior cried as his wife's ghost spoke to him. "My love, you must calm yourself. You know that I would not have died if the gods had not allowed it. It was not for me to leave Troy. But you will. You will see. There is a land waiting for you, of which you will be king, and you will have a new bride. And you will be the father to the greatest nation the world has ever seen." Creusa's words made Aeneas sob harder.

"All will be well, my dear husband. I know you love me, but you must stop crying. Only think. I was not captured; I will not become the concubine of some Achaean ruler, or the slave to his wife. I am a proud daughter of Troy, and that is what I will always be. This is where I belong, but you have greater things ahead of you. I must say good-bye now. If you love me, you will return to our son. Do not fail him."

And then she began to disappear. Her husband reached out to grab her around the neck and hold her, but her phantom was insubstantial. His hands passed through her image, distorting it. Three times he embraced the air, desperately trying to hold on to what was already gone.

As Athena watched the scene between the husband and wife, she realized she was looking at the man who would be the father of Rome. He did not look like much. His face was blackened by the smoke, and there were streaks running down his cheeks caused by the tears he was shedding. His armor was covered with blood and gore, and deep gashes marred his arms and legs. His shoulders were hunched over and his head hung in grief. He looked defeated.

Heedless of his surroundings, Rome's future trudged back to the old temple. This time, Athena guarded his passage.

When Aeneas finally made it back to the valley, it was nearly dawn. Before making his descent to the temple, he turned back to look at his homeland. The twilight revealed the extent of the damage. Troy was no more. The city wall had been breached, the stones thrown down and scattered. Columns of gray smoke threatened to block out the newly arriving sun. Athena wasn't sure if any of this registered with him. His eyes were glazed over, and he looked utterly shell-shocked.

Aeneas turned around and approached the temple. He looked up and saw how many people had converged on the spot. Athena was sure he would collapse under his pain and the heavy burden of his new responsibility, but he threw his shoulders back and raised his head. He was more resilient than she had supposed.

His young boy ran up to Aeneas, accompanied by his grandfather. "Where's mother?"

The warrior crushed Ascanius in his arms, holding him tightly to his chest before releasing him. "She won't be coming."

Ascanius looked up at his father, and his chin began to tremble. "Why not?"

The hero knelt before his son, taking the young boy's face between his callused hands. "Only the gods know. But she told me that we are going to a new land, and that she loves you."

The little boy nodded his head, then ran over to his grandfather, hiding his face in the old man's side.

Slowly rising to his feet, Aeneas turned and addressed the people that were looking to him for answers and hope. He was now their leader, and they pledged to go wherever he led them.

Lifting his father again and holding his son by the hand, Aeneas trudged toward the mountains, leaving Troy behind forever. His subjects shuffled after him in silence.

Only Athena noticed the thief that followed them.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

I borrowed heavily from Virgil's Aeneid Book I. The only thing I really added was the curse.

I hope you enjoyed, as much as you can enjoy the destruction of Troy. Please review.


	2. Adrift

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hopefully you are still interested after the first chapter. **:D**

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 1:**

**Adrift**

* * *

Dusk was descending as the large ship pulled away from the port of Piraeus.

Alfred Pennyworth's aching feet protested with every step he took along the upper deck of the ship—a testament to the very long day he had spent with his young ward, Bruce Wayne, traipsing across Athens, Greece.

It was not that long ago that the boy had been fascinated with the epic tales of the Greeks, Romans, and Britons. Every night before he would go to sleep, he would beg his parents to tell him of Odysseus, Romulus, and Arthur. And during the day, he pleaded with Alfred to share whatever knowledge he had about the subject.

It was amazing how much could change in one year's time.

Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne were now buried six feet beneath the earth, and their son had forgotten all about fairy tales and myths. Alfred looked at the listless boy, walking slowly by his side. The insatiably curious and charmingly precocious Bruce Wayne had all but disappeared, forced to grow up entirely too soon.

Still, Alfred held out hope that _that_ boy would return, that visiting the ancient sites would bring him back. They had flown into Athens three days ago and were embarking on a summer-long voyage, passing through the Aegean, Tyrrhenian, and Mediterranean Seas, the Strait of Gibraltar, and working their way up to Alfred's homeland, stopping every so often along the way. By the time they returned to Gotham City, Bruce would have visited all the major cities that were remotely close to the coast of the countries they would sail by.

Alfred had carefully watched Bruce as they toured all the historic sites—Hadrian's Arch, the temples of Zeus and Apollo. They had, of course, ascended the hill of the most popular of attractions, the Akropolis. As they walked through the Parthenon, toured the Sanctuary of Artemis, and rested in the Temple of Athena Nike, the boy's blue eyes remained listless and hollow, just like their owner, a specter of his former self.

Now miles out to sea, the lights of Athena's city faintly glimmered against the sapphirine blue of the evening sky. They were the only two people on the deck, and apart from the lapping of the waves against the ship's side, everything was quiet. Alfred watched as the lights quickly receded as the vessel swiftly pulled them further out to sea. He turned his head when he heard the boy speak to him.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

His nine-year old charge leaned against the ship's metal railing. With his his elbows resting on the guardrail and his chin cradled in his hands, Bruce stared up at the sky. Alfred had been too busy watching the fading light to the north to notice the thousands of stars punctuating the darkness. Their light spilled over the upper deck of the ship, giving it an eerie glow.

Alfred let another few seconds pass before quietly saying, "What is it, sir?"

"Do you…do you think they are thinking about me?"

Alfred was pleasantly surprised. Bruce had not mentioned his parents since their funeral nearly a year ago. Of course, he had high hopes that Bruce would open up about the trauma, but the butler hadn't expected it this soon. Alfred chose his words carefully.

"I imagine that they think of you all the time."

"I don't."

"What makes you say that?"

"They're dead. Dead people can't think."

"Most people in most places and in most times have believed in some kind of after-life."

The skepticism in Bruce's eyes was clear. "Most people are stupid, Alfred."

"Well, if they still have the ability, I am certain that you are in their thoughts and hearts. And if they are no longer capable of that, I am thinking about you, Master Bruce."

Alfred watched as the boy turned back to the stars and digested this new information in silence. His throat constricted as a tear trickled down Bruce's cheek. He placed a firm hand on his charge's back, hoping to give him comfort. Instead, the youth released a shuddering sob.

Mournful and gut-wrenching words poured out the boy's mouth, halted by the occasional hiccup, "I want…them to think…of me, Alfred."

"There is nothing wrong with wanting that, and there's no reason to think that they aren't."

"Do you think they're…mad at me because I…I'm crying?"

Even though he was a naturally stoic person, the wave of compassion that washed over Alfred left him unable to keep the feeling out of his voice and answer. "Of course not! Your parents love you. They would never be mad at you for crying."

Bruce declined the handkerchief Alfred offered him, angrily wiping away at the tears on his face, before shoving his hands into his pockets. "You never cry."

Alfred sighed. A fear that had constantly nagged at the back of his mind—that Bruce believed emotions were bad because Alfred hardly showed any—hit the older man more forcefully than usual. But trying to explain why he was so unflappable wouldn't be an easy task. Children didn't think in grays, only black and white. Regardless…

"Master Bruce, I cared a great deal for your parents, but there is a vast difference between a son and a servant. I could never love your parents the way you do. And I'm an adult, who has been entrusted with your parents' most valued and loved possession. Because you are a child, I wanted to provide you with the strength that I thought you needed, but I see that I was wrong. You are a very courageous young man, and probably needed honesty more than anything else. My apologies, sir."

"And you're English. The English never cry."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce. "I would find your joke funnier, if you actually smiled."

Bruce just shrugged his shoulders and kept looking at the sky. The boy's jaw tensed and his fists balled up at his sides. In a low voice, he vowed, "I'm going to find my parent's killer, and I'm going to do to him what he did to them."

"I can assure you that that would _not_ make your parents happy."

It had been so long since Bruce had been anything except apathetic and dull, and Alfred hated to take that away from him, but in the long run, vengeance would never bring Bruce happiness.

The boy looked stricken by Alfred's words. "Why not?"

"Master Bruce, do you think your parents want you to be a murderer, because that is what that horrible man is. A murderer. "

Bruce started tearing up again, even though he tried to hide it. "It's not fair!"

"I know."

"How am I supposed to help them?"

It grieved Alfred that the boy was even thinking such questions. Children weren't supposed to bear that kind of responsibility. Alfred quietly said, "I'm sure nothing would help them more than knowing that you are happy. You must try, sir."

Bruce turned two miserable blue eyes on his surrogate father, but said nothing.

He left the boy to his thoughts for a few more minutes before gently reminding him, "I think it is time to prepare for dinner, Master Bruce."

As they shuffled back to their cabin, neither of them saw the enormous wave poised above them. Soundlessly it crashed down around them, knocking the breath out of both of them before pulling them overboard.

As he furiously treaded the water, Alfred tried yelling for Bruce, but each time he opened his mouth, it became filled with water. He vaguely felt something tugging at his arm before the darkness overcame him.

* * *

The first thing Bruce sensed after he had passed out in the water was a faint tinkling noise. He focused, trying to figure out what he was hearing, and his efforts seemed to work. Slowly, he began to make out words among the chorus of bells, until he realized that it wasn't a musical instrument he was hearing, but the melodic voice of a woman. Using all his strength, he forced his mind to concentrate on the sound, desperate to hear the message.

"Everything will be alright, my child. Don't be afraid."

Bruce's eyes snapped open. With the sun shining into his face, he squinted at its brightness. Everything seemed dark until his eyes adjusted. Turning his head from one side to the other, he saw that he was lying on a beach. And that he was alone.

He sat up and gazed down at the sand, which was so white, it hurt to look at it. Bruce closed his eyes and tried to stand, but he fell dizzily back to the ground. He managed to get on all fours before his head began spinning. Without warning, his stomach heaved, releasing its contents onto the beach. There wasn't anything but water.

Bruce groaned and lay back on the sand. As he sat there, trying to gain his bearings, the enormity of what had happened last night hit him with full force. Where was Alfred? Was he going to be rescued? Would he die of thirst and hunger?

On the verge of tears, a cool breeze fanned across his face, and, though he could see no one around him, he heard the melodic voice whisper again, "Don't be afraid."

Bruce tried standing again, and this time, he felt no adverse effects. Once he was sure that he wouldn't fall over, his thoughts turned towards survival. He felt so incredibly thirsty and hot. He removed his jacket and tied it around his waist before heading towards the dense foliage that was about ten yards away.

He finally made it to the trees, and he would have stopped, but he needed to find water, and he felt that if he kept walking, he would come to something drinkable. Sure enough, after a five minute trek, he found a pool of water. Falling onto his stomach, Bruce cupped the water in his hands and drank greedily. Instantly, he felt stronger. Once his thirst was satisfied, he splashed the cold water on his face, then sat down on the grassy bank.

Feeling much calmer, Bruce began to take in his surroundings. The trees that he had passed through to get here were not thickly packed together, but they had provided plenty of shade. He looked up and saw how the branches splayed out, almost as if he were looking at the underside of an umbrella. He had never seen trees that looked like this before. They most closely resembled weeping willows, but they were much taller, and instead of their leaves drooping towards the earth, they were stretched out, slowly curving downward.

The wide, fan-shaped leaves were as brilliant as emeralds, and were mixed with purple and blue flowers that were just as radiant. Standing up, Bruce grabbed one of the purple blossoms from one of the lower branches and pulled it off. The air was suddenly filled with aromatic spices and Bruce's heart immediately felt lighter. Initially, he was frightened that the flower had drugged him, but he gradually noticed that, while he felt more peaceful, it wasn't accompanied by any lethargy. In fact, his senses seemed sharper. As he continued looking around, he noticed what had previously escaped his notice.

The pond at which he had slaked his thirst was composed of different shades of blue that flashed up at him as he stood over it. It was so clear he could see the silvery stones that were strewn across the bottom and the variegated wildlife that darted along the rocky floor. Where the leaves had looked flat and waxy before, he now saw that they had a feathery texture with at least three different shades of green woven in their fiber.

Everywhere Bruce looked, he noticed all sorts of flora and fauna that were nothing like what he had known in Gotham or the other places he had visited with his parents, and now, Alfred. It was fascinating, like something out of a fairytale. But before Bruce could get too wrapped up in exploring the island, he suddenly remembered that Alfred had gone overboard with him. Whatever calm the purple flower had offered him quickly disappeared.

He turned around to head back to the beach, hoping that Alfred would be somewhere along the shore. The sight that greeted his eyes left him stunned. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life was standing two feet away from him. She was much taller than he was; Bruce's head was level with her torso. Her light brown hair fell to her waist, and her eyes were as faceted as the water Bruce had just drunk from. He began to wonder if this was the owner of the voice he had heard on the beach. That hope died away as soon as she opened her mouth. Her voice was cold and clipped as she demanded, "Why are you here?"

Bruce didn't know what to say.

"Speak, child."

It was then that Bruce noticed the sword she carried with her. A stray sunbeam had filtered through the tree tops and glinted off the brilliant blade. Its hilt was gleaming silver, and the cross guard was wrought into two eagles' heads facing in opposite directions. Their eyes were made of onyx. In awe, he took in the rest of her clothes. Her feet were adorned with leather sandals, and her calves were covered with silver greaves. She wore a white tunic that came down to her knees. From underneath her gleaming breastplate, also silver, a bright blue sash peeked out, encircling her waist. She was wearing a leather belt which seemed to have more belts hanging down from it that rested across her thighs. The hand that was not carrying the sword had a burnished helmet in its grasp. A crest of bristly red material ran across its middle from front to back.

Bruce had seen an outfit like this in a museum, but it had always been worn by a man, and it had been nowhere near as terrifying.

And it looked like the woman was losing her patience. "You are not supposed to be here."

"I was on a ship, and a wave pulled me over. I just woke up on the beach, and I needed a drink of water."

"Are you alone?"

Bruce tried to keep the possibility of a dead Alfred far from his thoughts, but he was finding it difficult. Her sharp eyes were darting over his face, and Bruce bit down on his lip, so she wouldn't see his trembling mouth. When he was certain that everything was under control, he spoke again.

"There was an older man that was washed overboard with me. I don't know if he survived."

"What is your name?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"You are to come with me." The lady started walking away, not checking to see if the boy followed her. Even though she was covered with heavy armor from head to toe, she moved soundlessly. Bruce frowned at the noise he made as he trampled through the woods.

Once they reached the beach, a stunning black horse trotted over to them. Its flanks were massive, but it moved as gracefully as the female soldier. Bruce tried to stay perfectly still as the horse sniffed him, but he jumped a little when it snorted. He turned to look at the woman. She had just put her helmet on, causing her face to disappear behind the metalwork. She looked scarier than ever. A shiver threatened to course down his spine.

The warrior untied the blue sash from about her waist and secured it tightly over Bruce's eyes. Then she effortlessly hoisted him up into the saddle and sat behind him.

He tried to keep the fear out of his voice when he asked, "Where are we going?"

"You will find out soon enough."

And then they were off. Bruce had ridden horses before, since riding had been one of his favorite activities until his parents had died. He was used to moving at a horse's gallop. But this was something else. He held onto the saddle as tightly as he could, fearful that he would fall off. He assumed she noticed, because she started laughing derisively. "Scared, little man?"

After what seemed like an eternity to him, the horse finally slowed down. The woman dismounted the steed, then took Bruce down and led him around, still blindfolded, by the collar. She whispered menacingly to him, "Do not speak a word until I remove your blindfold."

From underneath the sash, Bruce knew that they entered someplace dark. The hairs on his flesh rose as they descended and the temperature of the air slowly dropped. All he could hear was the echo of their footsteps resounding against the walls as they walked over the hard, uneven surface. He nearly stumbled a few times.

They finally stopped, and he heard a metallic creaking sound. She took off his blindfold and ushered him into a cell, closing and locking the barred door. Clean hay was strewn across the floor and the light from a torch hung on the wall outside his cell cast shadows around his new dwelling place. In the corner, a tray with food and water was waiting for him.

"What was the name of that man who was washed overboard with you?"

"Alfred Pennyworth."

Without saying another word, the lady walked out of the room, leaving Bruce alone.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *


	3. Partial Disclosure

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Kipples Northington- thanks for the beta! I hope all is "well" with you. (I don't know if the pun is too obscure. :D) HFDaW!

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 2: **

**Partial Disclosure  
**

* * *

The queen paced the floor of the throne room, waiting for the return of her general. When her inferior arrived, Hippolyta sat down in the large stone chair that dominated the room.

"Antiope, did you find him?" The queen's regal voice echoed through the cavernous hall.

Antiope removed her helmet and bowed before Hippolyta. "Yes, my queen. He was in the western woods, about a hundred yards away from where we found the man."

"Good. I knew I chose well in sending you to find him." While Antiope was an expert tracker and one of her most reliable and trustworthy subjects, the queen's decision was made much easier by the fact that Antiope had found the first intruder. She was also one of the very few on the island who spoke English.

"What is our next step?"

"To find out as much information about them as possible. Did the boy corroborate the other one's story?"

"Yes; he named him as well."

Hippolyta leaned forward in her chair, her forehead creased in deliberation. "The nearest shipping lines are over a hundred miles away. Without a boat of some kind, they never could have made it. And that doesn't even take into account the other safeguards we have around the island. Someone must have helped them."

"Do you wish to speak to the sea nymphs?"

"Yes. Prepare my horse. It is imperative that no one else finds out about this until we have figured out what to do with the men. I do not intend for any other Amazon to know of their presence here. Not even the princess."

"What of the prisoners?"

"Do they have food and drink?"

"Yes."

"Then they can wait in their cells."

Antiope smiled at the queen's answer and then left to ready Hippolyta's horse. While she did that, the queen walked briskly to her room. Once there, she removed a wooden trunk from under her bed. After unlocking it, she dug through its contents. Hidden beneath some articles of clothing was the object she was looking for. She pulled out a shell. In nearly all respects it was quite ordinary—dull, off-white, not overly large, even chipped in a few places. It had been given to her by the sea deities if ever she needed to contact them. Tucking it in her tunic, she hurried to the stables.

When she arrived, the two Amazons mounted their horses and made for the island's western shore. Both were accomplished riders, and their steeds—like all Themysciran horses, were gifts from the god Poseidon—covered the twelve miles in minutes. Once they reached the water's edge, they dismounted onto the soft sand. Taking her shell, Hippolyta hurled it into the ocean.

The Amazons backed up, so that the sea could not reach them. Within seconds the waters began to dance, forming bubbles that spread across the sand, before growing in height. The white foam slowly took on the shape of two females, and the ocean waves began to climb and fill out the frothy structures. The now liquid bodies solidified further. They looked human in all regards except for their coloring. Their skin sparkled in different shades of blue, as the sun reflecting off the ocean, and the irises of their eyes were impossibly green. Soft waves of hair, as white as sea foam, fell about their shoulders. The exquisitely beautiful nymphs were clothed in simple dresses, which skimmed the sand and shimmered as if they were made of opal.

The taller one stepped forward. Her skin was darker than the other Nereid's, as if she were made of water from the deepest part of the ocean. She held out the shell that the queen had tossed into the ocean and dropped it in Hippolyta's hand. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Her voice was powerful, like the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs, though she spoke no louder than was customary.

Hippolyta gave her a polite smile and tersely replied, "I was hoping you could tell me that, Dynamene."

"I see that you have found the two castaways." The voice of the lighter one, Pherusa, sounded as soft as an ocean breeze and carried a trace of amusement.

Hippolyta did not see what was so funny.

"If you had to save them, why did you bring them here? You know our laws. You brought our worst enemy here, putting the Amazons in a very dangerous position as a result. It was a very foolish thing to do."

Pherusa giggled. "As foolish as disobeying a direct command from the gods? I'm sorry, Hippolyta, but even you come second to them. If you have a problem with what we have done, you can take it up with Athena."

The way the Nereids kept smiling at her was driving the queen to distraction. Hippolyta had never appreciated excessive mirth, which the nymphs had in abundance. She was also not accustomed to anyone arguing with her. Hippolyta took a menacing step towards the blue-skinned sisters. A stern voice from behind her stopped the queen's progress.

"Yes, Hippolyta, I would love to hear what you have to say."

Hippolyta glared at the nymphs before turning around. There stood Athena, leaning against a spear that she had stabbed into the sand. The gray-blue of her shift caused her deep-set eyes to stand out, and unlike those of the water nymphs, they were completely devoid of humor. A golden helmet sat high upon her brown curls, which tumbled over the goatskin she had draped across her slender shoulders. It was not the first time Hippolyta had seen the dreaded _aegis_, but it still gave her chills.

The queen and the general knelt low to the sand. "Athena Proxima, may you continue to bless your worshipers, the Amazons."

Athena turned to the ocean sisters. "Please give Poseidon my regards and thanks." The two nodded their heads before turning back to foam and washing out to sea.

With Dynamene and Pherusa gone, Athena turned her attention back to the Amazons. "Arise." Once back on her feet, Athena questioned the queen again. "Now what objections do you have against your visitors?"

"Goddess, you know our aversion to their kind—how they have treated your servants. Our most sacred law forbids them any place on our island. I do not wish to question your wisdom, but I respectfully request an explanation."

"While I owe you nothing, I will tell you as much information as you need to know." The goddess closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Hippolyta was in the throne room again. Athena took her seat in the queen's chair. Out of nowhere, or so it seemed to the Hippolyta, a small owl flew up to the goddess, perching on one of the throne's armrests.

It took Hippolyta a second before she realized what was wrong. "Where is Antiope?"

The goddess reclined back into the stone chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Someone needed to take care of the horses."

As she played with the owl, Athena casually said, "Do you remember Penthesilea?"

How could Hippolyta forget? Penthesilea was her sister, who had fought with the Trojans against the Greeks before Achilles slaughtered her. Even if she tried, it would be impossible for Hippolyta to forget. The image of her sister's dead body being dragged behind a Grecian chariot would be forever seared on her mind. Hippolyta's heart began to race as she clenched her hands at her sides.

"Yes. I remember."

Hippolyta wondered how the goddess could so coolly move on to the next topic of conversation, as if sister's death were on par with discussing the weather. With difficulty, she focused on Athena's words. "That is not the only atrocity the Achaeans have committed. While their godless deeds are without limit, I will keep this as brief as possible. During the War, they dishonored my temple and one of my worshipers, Cassandra. After they violated her, she prophesied about the coming destruction of those who participated in her ruin. You are aware of what happened to Ajax the Lesser and his Locrian army?"

Unsure where the goddess was going with this, Hippolyta recited the widely circulated accounts. "His ships were caught in a storm off the coast of Locris; everyone drowned, except Ajax. He was struck by a lighting bolt, then caught up in a whirlwind, only dying when he was impaled on a rock. Or so I've heard."

The glint of joy in Athena's eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a shiver down the queen's spine. "Every word of it is true. I remember it well; a fitting and most satisfying end. What is less widely known, though, is that I allowed one, called Melanthius, to escape. According to Cassandra's prophesy, any of Ajax's contingent that lived would be cursed to war against the Trojans, as would their descendants. My curiosity overruled my anger; I wanted to see that swine and his offspring suffer. Perpetually."

"At first Melanthius traveled amongst the Trojans, but when they discovered he was a Greek, he was imprisoned and eventually made one of Aeneas' slaves. Melanthius impregnated a servant girl, and after that he died." Athena smiled. "I think he drowned, but that's neither here nor there. As the years passed, I watched his progeny, his heritage. They were just as scheming and deceitful as their forebear, and, like him, they had the most curious habit of dying after having one child. I followed them as they moved. First, it was to the Trojans' settlement in Italy. And when Aeneas' great grandson, Brutus, left for the north to establish a kingdom there, they took Melanthius' great-grandson with them as one of their servants."

"For millennia, I entertained myself, watching their pathetic attempts to grab power from Brutus and the kings that came from his stock, only to be undone by their incompetence and foolishness. Some were more successful than others, but it always ended in the same way: defeat. But some people seem doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past." The goddess shook her head in amusement, her gray eyes sparkling like silver.

"Eventually I lost interest, so I had a friend watch for me." Athena ruffled the mottled brown and white feathers of the little owl next to her and produced a few large spiders. She dropped the arachnids into the opened beak of the ravenous avian.

"Finally, one of Melanthius' progeny succeeded where not one of his line had before: bringing down a kingdom of the Trojans. But no sooner had I gone to investigate, they disappeared. I assumed they died. On the surface, it made sense—even in triumph, they had been brought down, just like Ajax and his soldiers. In light of this, I concluded that the curse had reached its end. The kingdoms that had been birthed from Ilium had imploded. With Troy's influence finally over, there was no one for the household of Melanthius to war against. No host for the parasite. All was at an end."

"But as time passed, a part of the prophecy kept coming into my mind, and I began to wonder if things had really finished. I finally consulted Apollo, and he confirmed my suspicions, though he wouldn't reveal much more."

Hippolyta watched as the goddess grew quiet, a pensive look covering her ageless face. Lost in thought, she ran her fingers over the head of her owl, which released a series of tiny hoots. After a few moments, the Amazon Queen cleared her throat.

"Athena Parthenos, what does this have to do with our prisoners?"

The goddess's hesitation in answering did not go unnoticed by Hippolyta.

"I am not certain of their part in the curse. Apollo has been very tight-lipped about the whole matter. What I do know is that they were visiting my temple at the Akropolis the other day, and certain portents indicated that they will somehow be involved in finally bringing this war to its end. Until then, I want them to stay here, under your protection."

Hippolyta had hoped to ship the men back out to sea as soon as possible. She had difficulty camouflaging her disdain at this new prospect. "You want us to protect them?"

"You should be more concerned about who you are protecting them from."

'Who is it?"

"Hera."

"The queen of the gods? Why would she care about the existence of two powerless mortal men?"

Hippolyta briefly wondered about the arched eyebrow Athena gave her, but if the goddess had any objections to the queen's assessment of the intruders, it wasn't evident in her next words.

"Hera is still unable to forgive the slight to her honor and beauty that Paris committed against her by honoring Aphrodite with the golden apple. Everyone thought that when he died, she would abandon her revenge, but it only intensified. Hera followed Aeneas to Italy and would have destroyed him and, as a result, Rome, but Zeus stopped her. He swore that if she did anything to harm the Trojans, she would start another civil war among the gods, and he would no longer protect her from their anger.

She did nothing, for a while. But then she discovered a way around it--she used human agents. She would counsel them on how to bring down the Trojans, but because she could do nothing directly, it took much longer and hundreds of thousands of human lives for the kingdoms to fall. But time and humanity mean nothing to her, so long as she accomplishes her goals, and she did."

Hippolyta took advantage of the pause in Athena's narrative. "You mentioned Trojan kingdoms. I only know of Rome."

"Britannia."

"Why would Hera care about matters that are so far removed from her?"

"Geography is a small barrier in the face of terrible pride. No doubt that made Hera feel even more powerful when Britannia fell; it meant her influence extended as far as the North Sea. And, as a human, you cannot possibly understand the limitless hatred she bears for both Troy and Aphrodite. The blood that ran through Aeneas' veins carries the marks of both, and so would any of his offspring. I earlier spoke of Aeneas' great-grandson, Brutus. He was the first king of Britannia, and the isle was named after him.

Hippolyta didn't even try to understand Hera's motivation. "But it's been almost 4,000 years since the Trojan War."

"We gods have long memories. I cannot deny that I loathe the very idea of even one of Melanthius' descendants breathing. They have been nothing but a plague to mankind, a canker on the face of the earth. I should have finished him off years ago, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I wanted to see him and his offspring suffer. But this is much bigger than my personal vengeance. While dealing with the oracles is always subject to some confusion and speculative interpretation, I am almost certain that Hera is planning to establish a great kingdom through this cursed descendant, to have her Achaeans eternally rule over the Trojans. If she succeeds, she could set off a war that will make what happened at Troy look like child's play."

"The man is from England. Is it possible that he is Melanthius' descendant?"

"It isn't the man I'm concerned about."

"The boy? Is he the cursed one?"

"It is possible, but I don't think so."

A myriad of questions swirled through Hippolyta's mind, but she had to be diplomatic. It would not pay to question the wisdom of Athena's plan. But she needed to wrap her mind around these new revelations. "Why have you chosen us to protect them?"

"Have you never wondered why Hera was the only Olympian goddess not involved in the founding of Themyscira? Or why Themyscira is no longer an island of the air, but now dwells in the sea, like other islands? She hates the fact that the Amazons fought for the Trojan side during the War. If she succeeds, I would not be surprised if Themyscira is one of the first places she attacks. You have great reason to accomplish what I ask of you."

"Aren't we making it worse by giving her provocation?"

"If she finds out, yes, but I intend on keeping this from her for as long as possible. She does not know of his existence, but if she discovers it, this would be the last place she would look."

"If I'm not mistaken, you are asking us to harbor a child who Hera might use to establish a new kingdom of Greeks, and who would bring Themyscira to utter ruin."

The gray-eyes of the goddess narrowed, causing a small pool of dread to form in Hippolyta's gut. Even in the midst of her fear, the queen knew there was something else Athena was not revealing to her. "I ask for nothing. You will protect this boy. I brought him here in the hopes that the Amazons would befriend him, that he would be raised and trained as if he were one of your own. He would make a formidable enemy, and therefore it would be in your best interest if he were your ally. And what better motivation could there be than the destruction of Themyscira to spur you in your efforts? And surely you have heard the maxim concerning one's friends and enemies."

It was hard for Hippolyta not to be irritated with the goddess. Athena's condescension was apparent in every look and word she gave. The goddess treated Hippolyta like she was a naïve little girl rather than the Amazons queen. Bridling her anger, Hippolyta coolly replied, "If an enemy is to be kept closer than a friend, where does that leave the man? He is neither my friend and he is too insignificant to be my enemy. Why must he stay here?"

"Who else will look out for the boy's best interest?"

"The Amazons, naturally." The words sounded false, even to Hippolyta's ears.

"I seem to recall that the whole purpose of your existence was to promote the merits of virtue, love, and equality to the men of Patriarch's World. Tell me, when was the last time you, or any of the Amazons, even left the island?"

Hippolyta hung her head. She felt no shame, but the anger that burned in her blue eyes would be cause enough for the goddess to strike her dead. How could Athena ask this of her people? To harbor two males, who most likely were cursed to bring down anyone associated with the Trojans? And if Hera found out, what would stop Zeus's bride from destroying Themyscira and the Amazons? Athena's plan was beyond ridiculous; it was insulting and dangerous.

Athena's clear voice pierced through the haze of Hippolyta's rage. "It is pointless for you to hide your feelings from me. But for once, let reason guide you. You have failed in your Amazonian duties. I am giving you the chance for redemption. Not only will you raise the boy in your principles, but you have the opportunity to avenge your sister's death, bringing glory and fame to the Amazons in the process. You have everything to gain, and virtually nothing to lose."

When Athena put it that way, it sounded plausible and even intriguing, but, for all of that, there was something that Hippolyta valued infinitely higher than personal glory, Amazonian conquest, and even the safety of her entire nation. In a conflicted voice, Hippolyta rasped, "What about my daughter? I fear for her safety."

Athena gave her a dismissive glance. "Diana is a grown woman, and I believe that, of all the Amazons, she has the least to fear from him."

While this should have reassured her, the queen did not like the sound of that.

"I know you have many questions, Hippolyta, but you must believe that this is in your best interest."

"And if Hera finds out?"

"Tell her that I was behind all of this; that you know nothing. In this case, ignorance might be your best defense, so I am purposefully keeping things from you. If I see that you are taking care of them, and that you want the added responsibility of this knowledge, I will reveal more, but for now, the less you know the better. I also advise that no one finds out about your guests, unless they absolutely have to. The last thing I need is the gossip of thousands of Amazons reaching the ears of Hera."

Hippolyta could tell Athena was growing impatient with all her questions, but she could not quell the unease she felt about the scheme. "Ignorance is no protection from a vengeful goddess."

"I will take care of you and the Amazons, and I am not alone. There are other gods who wish to see the boy do well, and we are prepared to help his progress along in any way possible, not unlike how we helped Diana. If Hera succeeds, it could very well mean the end of the world."

Images of Hera razing Themyscira flashed before the queen's eyes. Diana had escaped the death and destruction of that terrible day—at the time, the princess had been nothing more than a thought and desire in Hippolyta's breast. But things were different now. Hippolyta needed assurances. "I will do this if, and only if, you promise that you will watch over Diana and protect her."

"Her interests are as important to me as the boy's. In fact, I will venture so far as to say that their fates are bound together. The more you protect the boy, the safer Diana will be."

Hippolyta's shoulders hung in defeat. She had no logical reason to object; only concern for her daughter's protection gave her hesitation. But even that seemed tied to the boy. If Diana's safety relied on Hippolyta's guardianship of the male visitor, she had no choice. "May it be as you have spoken, Athena. We will keep them here. Only defer your gifts to him for now. Let us bring him up as he is; otherwise, he might turn on us, and your blessings to him will be a curse for us."

The goddess of wisdom bowed her head in assent, before rising from the marble throne. "That seems just. The gods will not forget your help, Queen Hippolyta. Now where is the young man? I am eager to meet him."

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

It might seem odd to some that Hera is such a baddie in my story, but I haven't made up some random actions from her. If you look at wikipedia (yup, I'm citing wikipedia as my source!), Hera is not among the goddesses involved in Themyscira's conception. And she attacked the island and made it float in the sea instead of the air, as it used to. So she did it; the only thing I've changed is the motivation behind her actions.

Antiope is from the comic books too. **:D**

Also, Dynamene and Pherusa are actual sea nymphs.

Also also, Brutus of Troy isn't a figment of my imagination either. Wikipedia it! He's the mythological first king of Britain.

If you liked it, please review. If you didn't, I appreciate constructive criticism. **;D**


	4. Proper Introductions

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks to my uber-beta, Kipling-Nori. Through rain, sleet, snow, and insomnia, you always deliver! Mint mojitos and lunesta for ya (though I don't think you are supposed to take them together; just a hunch!) **;D**

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 3: **

**Proper Introductions**

* * *

As he sat on the floor of his cell, Bruce tried to make sense of what had happened. He still didn't know if Alfred was dead or alive, and a frightening warrior woman was holding him captive. And he was sure there were more of them. Why else would she need to hide him in an underground chamber? Surely, he couldn't pose any physical threat to her.

He turned over every possibility. A pinch to his arm proved that what he most wished for was false: he wasn't dreaming. There wasn't any way to know whether or not he had traveled back in time, though the very idea was preposterous. He had probably washed up on some normal island and had the misfortune of running into one of its crazier inhabitants.

But everything inside of him told him that something completely out of the ordinary was happening. First there was the soothing voice, promising him that everything would be alright. Then the peace he felt from the island. And the only thing insane about the woman was her beauty and the impossible speed at which her horse moved. He would have been excited if he weren't currently behind bars. This place was like one of his bedtime stories turned to life.

Bruce's heart beat a little faster when he thought of the only story that came even close to fitting what he had seen: The Amazons. As he thought it over, the idea became more and more implausible. First, the Amazons were fictional; they didn't exist except in fairytales told to small children. And just because he had run into one woman who was a soldier didn't meant that the rest of the island's citizens were women. Also, it would be impossible for a place like this to exist without anyone knowing of it. The ship hadn't even gotten that far from Athens; he could still see the city lights. And how far could a human float unconscious in the ocean?

There was absolutely no way he had stumbled upon a mythological people, but he couldn't escape the foreboding he felt. He wished it weren't true, so naturally, it had to be true. Hadn't the past year taught him that? Right after that night in the alley, he would wake up from his dreams, smiling, expecting his parents to be there, just like they had been in his sleep. But they weren't. Eventually, his dreams were slowly replaced with nightmares, and Bruce welcomed them. While seeing his parents die night after night wasn't something he looked forward to, it was better than having his hopes shattered every morning. At least there was nothing deceitful about the nightmares. They were always painfully accurate—a true depiction of his reality. They didn't make false promises, and they didn't lie. And his fears didn't either. He was certain that his paradise was really the home of the killers of men.

On the verge of panicking, Bruce paced his cell. He desperately wanted to shout for Alfred, to make sure the older man was alright and that Bruce wasn't alone. But if the woman had found Alfred, she could hurt him if Bruce didn't keep quiet.

Bruce sank against a wall, scared, tired, and hungry. He looked longingly at the food and water in his cell, but refused to partake of what was most likely poisoned. Lying down on the hay, he closed his eyes, willing himself to come up with some plan, but he couldn't. All he could think of was the ache he felt. More than ever, he missed his parents. And Alfred.

Out of nowhere he saw images of bullets piercing his parents and murky water choking Alfred. Bruce's eyes shot open, and he felt more disoriented than ever. He rubbed his eyes, confused at what he was seeing. The four walls of his cell had somehow been pushed back. He was no longer behind bars, but was in a huge, white room filled with sunlight.

As he gazed at his new surroundings, he spied a large fresco on the wall facing him. A proud huntress smiled at him as she reached into her quiver to ready her bow. There was a small deer playing at her feet, while the moon shone down on her. Bruce knew he was looking at Artemis—the Amazon's primary goddess.

His worst fears confirmed, Bruce pushed himself off the ground and turned around. Two women—one young and the other old—were staring intently at him. The younger woman looked like the soldier from earlier—sparkling in her armor, tall, lovely, intimidating, and cold—the only difference was that instead of light brown hair, hers was golden.

In comparison, the older lady looked like nothing much. She was much shorter and hunched over with age. Gnarled fingers peeped out from under her drab shawl, clutching a wooden cane for support. Strands of gray hair were visible from underneath the head covering that framed her withered face. She looked completely harmless and unimpressive, and yet Bruce knew that she was the one he should fear.

The old woman hobbled closer to him. In a cracked and aging voice, she said, "Hello there, young man. What is your name?"

He swallowed, his mouth unbelievably dry. "Hello, ma'am. My name is Bruce Wayne."

"I hear that you have had a very difficult day, Bruce. You must be hungry."

He was starving but he didn't want to show weakness, so he said nothing.

The old woman laughed, and for the first time, Bruce noticed her sparkling gray eyes.

Suddenly a table laden with food appeared out of nowhere. There were three seats, one at the head of the table, and the other two to the left and right of the first chair. The old woman sat down at the head, motioning for Bruce and the blonde woman to join her. He sat down across from the soldier, and her eyes bored into him. He thought she looked curious and angry.

The old woman cleared her throat, grabbing her tablemates' attention. "I must apologize for your reception, Bruce." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger woman sit up straighter. "Hippolyta, would you please serve our guest?"

He could tell the soldier's smile was forced, but she politely replied, "Of course. Is there anything you would like?"

"No. Thank you."

The old woman chuckled again. "He is afraid that we poisoned his food. You're a cautious young man, aren't you? Very wise." She took some food off of the serving dishes before them and ate. Then she helped herself to a large goblet. "It is safe. Eat and drink. You will need your strength."

"Before I eat, ma'am, will you please tell me what happened to the man who was with me?"

"Alfred?"

He nodded his head and braced himself for the worst.

"Rest assured, child, he is alive and well."

An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, but the women were looking at him so closely, he didn't want to show them how much he cared.

Bruce watched as the one named Hippolyta placed a large dish in front of him, covered with a little bit of every kind of food from the table. He was ravenous, but he made sure that his movements were slow and controlled. He had to work even harder to do that once he tasted the food. Not even Alfred's cooking tasted this good.

The women let him eat in silence till he was finished. Then the elderly lady began asking more questions.

"Do you have any idea who we are?"

As he watched her gray eyes narrow, he had the vague feeling that she was sizing him up. For a second, he considered lying to her. Perhaps they were hoping he didn't know about the Amazons. Maybe if they believed he couldn't identify them, they would release him and Alfred. But every instinct told him to speak the truth.

"I think she is an Amazon, and you are a goddess."

The gray eyed lady gave him a smile. "And why would you think that? I am a feeble old woman, who requires a cane to even walk."

"The only woman warriors I have heard of are the Amazons, and Artemis is their main goddess." He watched old lady's eyes flicker over to the painting at the end of the room. "And the gods would often pretend to be mortal, like Zeus and Hermes did with Baucus and Philemon."

The goddess titled her head to the side, clearly pleased. "It appears you've seen through my disguise. You are a very clever boy. Do you know which one I am?"

"Athena."

"What gave me away?"

"Your eyes. They're gray."

"Of course. I should have thought about that."

Bruce was certain that she had and was just testing him. He hoped that her amusement was an indication that he had passed. She leaned towards him, and asked, "How do you know so much about us?"

The boy tried not to blush, unsure of what he was going to say was offensive. "From my mythology books and the stories I've been told."

"Mythology books?" The old woman laughed, but the soldier glared. "Hippolyta, were you aware that most of his world think our existence is nothing but a story fabricated to entertain the masses?"

"Most of his world is ignorant," the blonde curtly said.

"Well, as you can see, Bruce, we are more than myth. Very little is known or said about the Amazons, so I would like to tell you more about them. Is that alright with you?"

Even if it weren't, Bruce knew better than to talk back to an adult, much less a goddess. "Yes, ma'am."

And then, out of nowhere, Alfred appeared. Bruce wanted to jump out of his chair and race over to him, but he stayed firmly rooted in his seat. While the older man's clothes looked a bit worse for wear, he looked as unflappable as ever. Bruce suddenly felt safer.

Athena conjured up a fourth chair and waved for Alfred to join them.

"Welcome, Alfred. I was just speaking to Bruce about his future on the island, and since you will be playing a large part in shaping it, I thought it best for you to partake in the discussion."

Bruce felt Alfred's eyes searching his face for signs of injury or distress. He gave Alfred a small smile, trying to communicate that he was alright. Alfred visibly relaxed.

"That's very considerate of you, Miss..."

"You may call me Athena."

If Alfred was surprised that he was addressing a goddess, Bruce couldn't tell. His face was the picture of calm. "I thank you, goddess Athena, for taking care of Master Bruce in my absence."

"It was no trouble at all. And, please, help yourself to the food."

Alfred did as he was instructed, and after a few bites, he said, "I must say, this is delicious."

The goddess bowed her head in thanks. "Now as I was saying earlier to Bruce, I would like to give more information about our gracious hosts."

"You are now on Themyscira, an island that was given to the Amazons when they left your world over three thousand years ago. As I'm sure you've seen and experienced, Themyscira is an earthly paradise. It was created and blessed by Artemis, Demeter, Hestia, Aphrodite, and myself, and we have since protected the island and her inhabitants from intrusions from the outside world.

And yet, here you are. Do not wonder at your arrival. Your presence is no coincidence, and so, you should feel no threat. I have brought the two of you to Themyscira for a reason, though at this time, I cannot tell you what it is. Concerns for the Amazons' and your safety will not allow it, and even if I were to tell you, I doubt," she looked pointedly at Bruce, "you would believe me."

Bruce didn't confirm the goddess's assumption. He had other things to worry about. "When do Alfred and I get to leave?"

"It is not safe for you to return home. You will be raised here, by the Amazons and Alfred."

A sinking feeling pooled in Bruce's stomach. He wanted to be in Gotham, where his parents and home were. But the goddess didn't seem interested in that. She was looking at the younger woman. "Queen Hippolyta, please inform them of what they are to expect during their stay on the island."

Not sparing either Bruce or Alfred a glance, Hippolyta answered Athena. "I will need to speak things over with General Antiope before I can give either of them specifics. But they will be lodged on the western part of Themyscira, where they were found. I will make it off limits to all but those Amazons I will choose to train him, and neither of them will be able to leave that part of the island. There already exists a considerably sized dwelling there, used by the Amazons for prayer and meditation. That will be their new residence. Alfred will educate the boy in the ways of his world, while we'll provide instruction in the arts, fighting techniques, and stratagems of the Amazons. The boy's worlds must be kept absolutely segregated."

"Thank you, Hippolyta. Do either of you have any questions?"

Alfred cleared his throat and asked, "I am sure that you have thought of everything, goddess Athena, but if it pleases you, what will become of the boy's estate in Gotham City? He has considerable monetary assets and large amounts of property. When our bodies are not found, they will assume that he has died. I would hate for his inheritance to pass into the hands of another."

"I will see to that. In due time, the boy will have everything that is rightfully his, and most likely more."

"Forgive me again, but if I am to be in charge of his education and upbringing, there are a few things that I will require."

"Whatever you need will be yours. Just make a list and attach it to the outside of your door. I will send a messenger to retrieve it, and you will receive your supplies. You may take advantage of this as often as you need. Is there anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you, goddess Athena."

"And you, Bruce? Do you have any questions for me?"

Athena had already said that she would not give an explanation to the question he wanted answered most: Why? Stunned by the new life mapped out for him, Bruce barely managed to shake his head no.

Athena looked one last time at Hippolyta. "Remember what I told you earlier. I will be checking on his, and your, progress. Do not fail."

The queen bowed her head, and the old woman disappeared.

* * *

As soon as Athena left, Hippolyta excused herself from the men and, after giving strict instructions to remain where they were, she went in search of Antiope.

She found the general in her quarters.

Unsure of how to break the news to Antiope, Hippolyta delivered the details of her meeting with Athena as succinctly as possible. She told the general almost everything. As Antiope believed that Hippolyta coddled and spoiled Diana, the queen did not explain her primary reason for assenting to Athena.

When Hippolyta was finished, she looked at Antiope expectantly. The general was not pleased.

"How could you allow this?"

Hippolyta knew Antiope would react that way. Realizing that she was stressed, the queen tried to keep her voice free from irritation as she replied, "I had no choice but to. The will of the gods is inexorable, as you are well aware."

Antiope clenched her fists, angry. "She wants you to teach him in our ways? To hand over our most precious traditions? And to what? An ignorant child that can never understand us, never appreciate what we have gone through to earn our current standing with the gods. And then, he will most certainly turn against us. He is nothing now. If we teach him in our ways, he will use _our_ tools, _our_ knowledge to betray us. How could Athena ask this of us?"

"Does it really matter? She has, and there is nothing we can do but obey. It was not my decision to leave you out of my conference with Athena, and I apologize if I am not as persuasive as Athena in my explanations, but it is not a foregone conclusion that the boy will turn on us. Our way is the best way. _You_ have nothing to fear."

Antiope's eyes blazed menacingly. "What do you mean? I fear no one, least of all some insignificant child." Hippolyta watched as the import of her words sunk into the general's head. In a dangerously low voice, Antiope asked, "You expect me to work with him?"

"Yes. It will be a very time-consuming task, and if I am gone for too long, Diana will grow suspicious. You know how curious she is. And stubborn. She would not rest until she discovered what I was doing, and I cannot have her finding out about them."

"Do you ever think of anything but your daughter? She is our strongest warrior. If anyone should be teaching the _boy_," Antiope spat the word out, "it should be her."

"That is out of the question. Diana may be the strongest, but she is practically a child. She has no experience with their kind. She knows nothing about men, and I intend to keep it that way. She is my daughter. I cannot put her in that kind of danger."

"But I am your sister. You know what I have suffered at their hands. How can you ask me to help them?" Antiope looked down at her wrists, which were covered in bracelets, like all the Amazons—a perpetual reminder of their enslavement to Heracles and his soldiers.

Hippolyta could not believe her sister's selfishness. "Do you think you are the only one who has suffered? Besides, these two were not responsible for what happened to us and we should not blame them for the sins of others. Until today, they probably never believed Heracles even existed."

Hippolyta could see that Antiope was not swayed in the least.

"Think, sister. This is our chance to right the wrongs Achilles and the Greeks committed against Penthesilea?"

"I would rather he died than teach him our ways."

Her patience at its end, Hippolyta struck out angrily. "Are you so shortsighted? What would come from his death? Athena would destroy you, and for what? Seconds of gratification? What glory can there be from murdering a child?"

"That did not stop Achilles' son from dashing Hector's son on the foundations of Troy."

"Pyrrhus was a beast, just like his father. Are you so overcome with anger that you are no longer capable of rational thought? You debase yourself."

The general sat down dejectedly on her bed, holding her head in her hands. Hippolyta silently thanked Athena that her words were finally having some effect. "You are right. The boy is inconsequential."

With a sigh, the queen sat down next to Antiope, hoping that if she showed some sincerity, her sister would see reason. "I understand your anger. When Athena mentioned Penthesilea, I felt the old hate rise up in me again. It's been thousands of years, and I thought I had released it, but it's still there. It will always be there, but there is something more powerful than that, and it has been around much longer than hate, and will outlive it."

Antiope looked overly wearily at the queen. "What?"

"Love."

Harsh, bitter laughter escaped the general's mouth. "I cannot love that boy."

"I am not speaking about him, but of Penthesilea. Imagine if you were able to teach the boy our highest values. Would that not be a far greater revenge than any punishment you could have inflicted on him? That boy would be the living testament to the ideals that our sister lived and died for, a witness to the goodness of the Amazons."

"But what if he doesn't want to learn? I have little patience; you know that."

"You will do what is right."

"And if he turns on us? I can't sit back and do nothing."

"Then let's hope it never comes to that. But you must be careful. Your bias against him could distort your view of his actions. I'd hate to think of what Athena would do if you harmed him. I've already lost one sister. I don't want Diana to lose the only aunt she has left."

"Then, as you said, let's hope it never comes to that."

Hippolyta could see Antiope's mind at work. The queen had no illusions concerning her younger sister. She was certain that Antiope already considered the boy a traitor, no matter what he did. Still, sister or not, Antiope was still a subject of Themyscira. Whether the general agreed with her elder sister mattered little. Hippolyta was her queen. For now, Hippolyta would trust that Antiope would obey her and Athena's authority. She had no choice but to.

Both ladies stood and turned to face each other.

Hippolyta asked, "So you will oversee his training?" While in the form of a question, Hippolyta made sure that the tone of her voice left no room for argument. The queen was issuing a command backed by the power of the throne.

Antiope's eyes narrowed. "Yes, Queen Hippolyta."

"I trust that you will handle this professionally. I cannot stress enough how important it is that we succeed."

"As you wish, Queen Hippolyta." Antiope walked over to the door, indicating that she wanted Hippolyta to leave.

The queen exited the room, hoping rather than believing that her sister was telling the truth.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It helps me motivate me when I'm feeling sluggish. Seriously!

Anonymous Reviews

batsy- Hi there, batsy! (I feel like the Joker, writing that.) I tried emailing you at your address, but for some reason, it always returns to sender. So, yeah, this is a bit of a departure from my normal fare, but I wanted to try something new. I'm crazy about mythology, and I think my obsession with BMWW is obvious, so I decided to combine the two.  
As for Diana and Bruce on Themyscira. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with that. I can't figure out if I'm going to make Diana thousands of years old, Bruce's age, or just about ten years older than him. So I might have to go back and change a few things that I wrote in these first couple of chapters. I should have it figured out soon, though. Thanks for the reviews!

Status Quo- Thanks for the review. Hopefully, I can turn this thing into something interesting and keep it that way! I'm certainly going to try. **:D**

BKK!!- Hey there! Thanks so much for leaving a review. I owe you about a billion, and I will be picking up where I left off on The Island in the next few days. Your story is going awesomely, BTW, but I will go into more detail about that later. **:D **Virgil is the best! My favorite epic writer. Well, him and Dante. And you are correct, the Amazons fought with the Trojans against the Greeks. I can't remember which story it's in, but I've read it somewhere.

* * *

Author Notes:

Heracles is the Greek name for Hercules.

Penthesilea is a sister of Hippolyta according to mythology. Antiope is Hippolyta's sister in the comics. I mashed them together, so that there were three of them. I imagine P was the eldest, H is the middle, and A is the youngest.

I refer to the death of Penthesilea. She was killed in combat by Achilles. I also talk about the death of Astyanax, Hector's son. If I'm not mistaken, he was thrown off the city walls of Troy by Achilles' son, Pyrrhus. It was common for the children of fallen heroes to be slain, so that they would not exact revenge on their parents' murderer. Grisly, huh?

If any of this is confusing to you, feel free to drop me a line. I might just need a reminder that I'm being too obscure. Diana should make an appearance within the next two to three chapters.

Review. Please. **:D**


	5. A New Home

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything

I have many thanks to give out! First, to KN. You are the bomb-diggity! No doubt! Thanks for beta-ing this and always encouraging me, my peachy keen friend. I give you your very own jedi enclave (and in one of the corners, HC is waiting for you, lol! I'm still giddy!). To Hepburn, thanks a "tonne" for catching the toga thing. **:D** And the stone thing, lol. I found some website that talked about all the precious gems associated with certain goddesses, and just put ones in that I thought would match in color. And J.J., thanks for letting me talk comics with you and for putting up with my comic book ignorance. **:D**

For those of you who, like me, are BMWW addicts, she is coming soon. It is, unfortunately, not the next chapter, but it is DEFINITELY the one after that. I'm sorry if that's disappointing, but believe me, no one is mourning that fact as much as I am. I feel your pain. BMWW forever!

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter Four:**

**A New Home**

* * *

When Hippolyta returned, she motioned for Alfred and Bruce to follow her. She led them through the palace's empty and circuitous corridors until they were outside. It was dark, but Alfred could still discern his surroundings. He looked up at the building they had just left. Its walls were so high, he would have had to stand at least twenty feet back to see the roof. They had left through a side entrance, and the queen had rushed them over to a circular grove of trees, telling them to wait inside the ring while she checked to see if anyone was around.

Alfred watched Bruce wander across to the other side of the grove. The butler followed him over, interested in what the boy was looking at. The sight nearly took his breath away.

The city was built into the side of a gently sloped mountain around three miles high. The palace was embedded in the rock face at the summit, so Alfred could see the whole of the city from where he stood. The architecture was reminiscent of what he had seen in Athens just yesterday, but instead of ruins and cracked and worn stone, everything was in pristine condition. The moonlight reflected off of the marble, causing it to gleam. Most of it was white, but other colors accented the edifices, especially vibrant blues and various shades of gold.

As he gazed, Alfred heard a dull splashing sound from somewhere behind him. He looked back at the palace. Cascading from underneath was a waterfall, which filled a moat-like trench about twenty yards wide and two hundred yards across. A bridge ran across the middle of the water, connecting the lands, though one side of the bridge was considerably higher than the other, due to the slope of the mountain. Two guards stood sentinel at either side of the expanse. Looking closer, Alfred saw what could only be described as two small rivers emanating from moat's sides. They flowed down the mountain, growing farther and farther apart. The city was bounded by the two bodies of water. Every three hundred yards or so, the rivers would form another large moat, with a bridge and four guards standing at the ready. It was like this until the base of the mountain, where the two rivers met before dropping out of sight.

At the bottom of the mountain, it seemed as if the land had stopped. There must have been a steep drop of at least a few hundred feet, because further down, Alfred could see a vast beach. The arms of white sand stretched out into ocean, forming a bay below the city. Flanking the beach was a dense forest. He saw the river snaking through the trees before it disappeared around the curve of the island. He hadn't really thought about it, but Themyscira must have been very large.

Alfred almost jumped when he heard Hippolyta's voice behind him. "Impressive, is it not?" He quickly looked over at Bruce. The boy didn't seem scared at all; he must have heard the queen sneak up on them, Alfred thought.

"Indeed, Your Majesty."

"The falls emanate from a spring underneath the palace, from within the mountain. One of the rivers provides hot water, while the other one gives us cold water."

"What provides the heat, Your Highness?"

The queen seemed taken aback by the question. "Nothing but the blessing of the gods." Alfred nodded his head, though he knew Hippolyta was leaving something out.

"As you can see, the rivers meet and then curve out of sight. It wraps around nearly the whole island, often separating and coming back together again. When intertwined, the waters are warm, but where they are separated, one runs hot and the other cold. Your new lodgings take advantage of this phenomenon. But I have spent too much time discussing this. I will tell you more when we arrive. Let us go."

She led them toward the back of the palace, where the stables were located. Alfred could smell the hay and horses before he could see the animals' dwelling place. Once inside, the queen whistled three times, each at a different pitch and length. Three horses gracefully trotted forward, lining themselves up before their master.

"Do you know how to saddle a horse, Alfred?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The queen and servant had the steeds outfitted in minutes. Once finished, Alfred helped Bruce onto his horse, but remained at the impressive beast's side. The glossy black horse was just as large as the others, and Alfred grew concerned.

"Excuse me, Queen Hippolyta, but is it safe for a young man of Master Bruce's age and size?"

The queen walked over to the mare and rubbed her hands against its proud face. Alfred heard her whisper something that sounded Greek, and the animal pawed softly at the ground.

"Philogea has carried a much younger passenger than your ward. But if the boy is afraid..." The queen's voice trailed off as she looked over at a smaller horse.

"I am not afraid."

Alfred looked over at Bruce. That was the first the boy had spoken since Athena left.

The queen nodded her head in grudging approval. "Very well, then." She walked over to Alfred's horse, a warm chestnut brown beast with a white crescent on her forehead and white on her lower legs, and whispered more Grecian secrets.

"I have told Philogea and Amethea that you are their new owners. They will now respond to your commands. If you treat them well, they will reciprocate. Both are capable of traveling at unnatural speeds, but until you have grown accustomed to each other, I advise that you travel slowly."

Hippolyta quickly mounted her horse and squeezed its sides with her legs. Then she took off into the night, with Bruce and Alfred following not far behind.

* * *

The horses carefully made their way down the other side of the mountain. Unlike the large city on the other side, the earth looked wild and untamed. This part of the island seemed much larger and varied. He could see beaches, hills, valleys, forests, lakes, and rivers decorating the terrain.

Once they had reached the bottom of the mountain, the horses increased their pace. The wind stung Bruce's face as they galloped towards his new home. He was moving slower than when he had been taken to the palace earlier that day, but it was still too fast for him to take in everything that passed him by.

About half an hour later, the queen led them to a group of grass-covered hills. At the top of the third one, there was a valley splayed out before him. He wasn't sure, since it was dark, but Bruce thought he saw a strange looking building in the distance. At its center was a large decagon, whose walls were nearly thirty feet tall and whose diameter was around two hundred feet. There were five hallways that led away from it, radiating outward like sunbeams, and each was connected to a smaller circular room. The hallways alternated with five archways that gave access to the decagon's insides. The large, central room was unroofed, and Bruce could see the tops of trees sticking out. The rest of the rooms were topped with domes. Farther away was a rectangular shaped building as well. As they drew closer, he could see it was a stable.

The horses slowed when they passed the building and headed toward the stable. Instead of hay, all Bruce could smell was flowers. The horses stooped and Hippolyta, then Alfred, dismounted. Bruce was going to wait for Alfred's help, because his animal was too tall for him to get off of without help, but the horse knelt down close to the ground. Bruce easily hopped off, then patted the horse awkwardly. It made a noise in response, and Bruce quickly drew back his hand. He looked around surreptitiously, hoping no one had seen what had just happened.

His eyes landed on a small river, which he hadn't noticed until then. It cut across the valley, running right through the middle of the edifice and then through the stable, which was downstream. Hippolyta led the horses over to the stream and the beasts drank deeply.

After lodging the horses, the queen led Bruce and Alfred inside a stone archway into the central room, if it could even be called that. It was enormous and was actually a garden. As Bruce walked under the opening, he noted that it was brighter inside than outside. Along the walls and hanging from the trees were many alabaster orbs glowing at different intensities. When he looked closer, Bruce saw fireflies buzzing around and inside the luminous globes.

Hippolyta led them over to a stone table and benches and signaled for them to take a seat. Bruce almost smiled when he saw Alfred mobbed by a butterfly, which the Englishman discreetly tried to shoo away.

From his seat, Bruce looked around. Not too far away was an ornate door, with different objects engraved on it and the stone that surrounded it. Farther away, he could make out another one, though it was different from the first one. Even though he couldn't see them all from where he sat, Bruce imagined that each of the five hallways had a different decorative opening. He couldn't be sure, but the plants and flowers in the garden seemed to change from section to section as well.

Hippolyta cleared her throat, and Bruce stared back at the queen.

"This is where you will be staying from now on. This building served as a spiritual retreat for the Amazons, and each of the rooms is dedicated to one of the five goddesses who created and blessed Themyscira. You will find the kitchen in Demeter's room. The armory is located in Artemis's room. Athena's portion houses the den, where you will find the library. Aphrodite's and Hestia's sections are where you two will stay. I will leave who sleeps where up to you."

"The garden should supply you with all the fruit and vegetation you will need. It is fed by the sun, river, and the springs below the valley. If you want meat, the ponds are well-stocked and there is plenty of game in this part of the island. While we do not have the technological advances that Patriarch's World boasts of, you will find that we want for nothing. Through the gods' blessing and magic, we are able to offer you the same comforts and conveniences as Man's World."

Bruce noticed that the queen was carrying a scroll with her. She laid it out flat on the table in front of them, then pointed a finger at a small portion of the vast island's western side. "This is where you are now. I have arranged for this part of the island to be sectioned off. You are never to leave here, and only a select few of the Amazons will be able to enter. Your area is bounded by the river that you saw flowing through the city. It wraps around most of the island," Bruce studied the map around her finger. There was a rocky outcropping near the beach. A picture of a waterfall was drawn across it. The line of blue divided into three separate sections a few inches away in a place called The Trident. There was a bridge right before the trident formed and over the arm of the river nearest the valley where they were now living. The map was dotted with a bunch of trees, broken up occasionally by a pond. There was one near the beach, and Bruce realized that was the place he had been found by the other soldier. If he was reading the scale correctly, it was about two miles from where he was now.

The valley that contained his new dwelling place was about a half a mile from a small mountain chain that was connected to the larger one that Themyscira's city rested in.

"The boundaries of your land are easy to see. The beach to the west, the waterfall to the south, the river—and after it splits, the westernmost arm—to the east, and the mountain to the north. That leaves a lot of room for exploring and for getting lost. If you are concerned, always take your horses with you; they will bring you back here. In fact, until you are more familiar with the region, I advise you to take them with you everywhere. How old are you, Bruce?"

He was surprised at her direct address, but answered evenly. "Nine."

Hippolyta's brow creased in thought. "It would have been ideal to start your training at the age of eight, but that can't be helped. And I don't know how wise it would be to begin immediately. When is your next birthday?"

"In two months."

"We will start then. In the meantime, acquaint yourself with your part of the island. My general, Antiope, will be in charge of your training. If you need to speak with me, send a message with your horse, or after she has come, with Antiope. Do either of you have any questions?"

Bruce looked over at Alfred, who answered, "No, Your Majesty."

The queen bowed her head. "Then I will leave you. The blessing of the goddesses be with you."

When she left, Alfred stood up from the bench, causing the butterfly that had been resting on his shoulder to take to the skies. "Well, Master Bruce, I suppose we should check out our new rooms. Would you prefer Aphrodite or Hestia?"

"I don't care."

"In that case, you may stay in the love suite."

Rolling up the map, Bruce carried it with him as he and Alfred walked along a path that led through a part of garden dominated by a large apple tree. Rose bushes abounded, awash with petals as varied as the rainbow. Clusters of red and green grapes hung from vines. Every now and again they passed a laurel or ash tree, and Bruce could see doves resting in their branches. The path led them to an exquisite door, crafted out of pearl. A tree was engraved in the center. Its leaves were made of jade and the golden apples were etched into the precious stone. An ocean of aquamarine roiled underneath it. Scalloped shells and dolphins bordered the stonework that framed the door.

Alfred reached out his hand towards the door. He barely touched it, but it sprung open, as if on its own accord. He smiled down at Bruce. "Ready, sir?"

Bruce nodded his head.

The hallway was dark, but as soon as they stepped inside, two lights started glimmering. They looked like oval-shaped windows, and Bruce could see there more of them running down both sides of the hall, evenly spaced every three feet. Even though it was completely dark outside, somehow light was shining through them. At that point, Bruce was too tired to even try to understand it, but he still looked into them as he passed. He turned around and saw that the lights would stop shining after they walked away.

Experiencing some kind of sensory overload, Bruce trudged after Alfred. Unlike its opening, it ended at a plain wooden door. Alfred opened it and ushered Bruce inside. Extremely tired, Bruce leaned against the wall and watched as Alfred smoothed the sheets and arranged the pillows on his new bed.

"Master Bruce, I advise that you take a clean up before you get into bed. There seem to be some robes over by the bath. And I'm afraid we might have to wait another day or two for new clothes, though I will leave a message for the goddess tonight." Bruce undressed and handed his dirty laundry to Alfred. The butler gently pushed him toward the other side of the room. "I will return these to you tomorrow. Good night, sir."

The events of the past two days were catching up with Bruce. Through heavy lids, he looked at the area that was supposed to be the bath. There were four steps leading down to a square area covered with a mosaic of the ocean waves meeting the sand. He saw no knobs and wondered how he was supposed to turn on the water. He placed his foot on the first step, and water started bubbling up from the seascape. He jumped out, and the water receded.

He walked back down the steps, sitting on the last one. His legs dangled over the side as the warm water kept rising. It stopped at the middle of his chest. Bruce pushed himself off the ledge, so that his feet were touching the bottom of his bathtub. The water level lowered with him. After experimenting a bit, he found that he could get the water to go no higher than the second to last step. He supposed the contraption was rigged so it wouldn't flood the rest of the room.

Thoroughly cleansed, he stepped out of the bath and watched the water recede into the mosaic ocean. Looking around, he saw a robe draped across a cushioned stool. He wrapped himself in it, then walked over to his bed. He half expected something extraordinary to happen as he climbed into it, but nothing did. Pulling the covers up to his neck, he rested his head on one of the many pillows. He closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Bruce awoke with a start. He noticed his unfamiliar surroundings and bed. The events of the past couple days slowly settled in his mind, and there was much he wanted to see. Jumping out of bed, he ran out of the room, down the hallway, and into the garden in search of Alfred.

He didn't find him and was distracted by a different door. Jasmine filled the air as he walked towards Artemis's chamber. He hadn't forgotten that it housed the armory. He stopped in front of the door, admiring its detail. The crescent moon sparkled like a diamond in the sun, and it was embedded in lapis lazuli, which represented the night sky. Little flecks of silver dotted the blue background, depicting the stars. The moonlight pierced through pearly clouds, illuminating deer drinking from a stream.

He pushed against the door and walked down the hallway. Instead of the oval windows of Aphrodite's hall, there were hundreds of tiny holes pierced through the walls, letting in silvery light. It was like walking through the dark under a full moon and the stars.

He ran down the hall and pushed the other door open. A twinge of delight emanated through him when he saw the rows and rows of weapons. Swords, axes, bows, arrows, shields, spears, and so much more. There were many suits of armor standing at attention. The highly polished metal gleamed in the light, though, once again, Bruce couldn't see its source.

Bruce didn't know where to start. Should he try on the armor? It all looked too big for him, but he was sure the helmet would fit. Or maybe he should get one of the axes? But the swords and spears, though longer, looked lighter. He must have stood there for minutes, contemplating what thing he should play with first. He finally decided on the sword.

He ran over to a wall covered with them. There were daggers, long swords, broad swords, thin blades, those with double and single-edges. At this point, Bruce was no longer picky. He reached out and grabbed the one nearest him. His hand was on the hilt when he heard a voice behind him. Bruce jumped back and the sword clattered to the ground.

"Master Bruce, don't touch that."

Slightly irritated and embarrassed, Bruce said, "Alfred, did you have to sneak up on me like that? I could have sliced my foot off."

Bruce picked up the sword with some difficulty. Alfred walked over and helped him put it back. "You are not to touch these until you are bigger."

Bruce scowled back, but knew that Alfred meant business. Hopefully he would have a growth spurt in the next few hours. Still, looking at the rest of the weapons, there had to be some that would be easy to wield.

"It's time for lunch, sir."

"Lunch?" He had no idea how much he had slept, or how Alfred knew what time it was for that matter.

Alfred must have sensed his confusion. "There are a few sundials in the garden, and the rooms have some very interesting clocks."

He pointed to the wall space over the door that led back to the hallway. There were no gears and no audible ticking, only a half moon. "If you stood here, sir, you would see the moon continue to wax until six. Then, I imagine, it would wane until there was nothing left at midnight." Bruce didn't know what kind of image was in his room; he had rushed out before he could inspect it.

Once again, Bruce was struck by the strangeness of the island. He couldn't think of a world without electricity and plumbing and air conditioning. Well, not in the conventional sense, at least. It was a bit unsettling, but at the same time very exciting. He looked forward to figuring out how it all worked.

Bruce followed Alfred into the kitchen. It contained a large table with many seats. A plate and cutlery were at the head of the table. The sights and smells of what was on the plate made Bruce's mouth water. He sat down and began to eat, while Alfred apprised him of what had happened when he was asleep.

"I made quite a list last night, and when I woke this morning, I found myself pleasantly surprised. Everything I had requested was in its appropriate place. Though the clothes are a tad different from what I had envisioned."

Alfred held up a chiton.

Bruce scrunched his nose. "I'm not going to wear a dress."

"I'm not overly fond of the idea either, sir, but when in Rome, or in this case, Themyscira…"

"What kind of shoes did she leave us?"

"Sandals, sir."

The idea that he wouldn't be the only one dressing funnily consoled Bruce. Somewhat. He pictured Alfred in the Themysciran garb and almost laughed. But then a harrowing thought occurred to him.

"What are we going to do about underwear?"

Alfred revealed the loincloths.

Bruce almost choked on his food. "Diapers? She wants us to wear cloth diapers."

"There is always the Scottish alternative, sir." This time it was Alfred who wrinkled his nose. Bruce always found it amusing how the Englishman found all other Britons barbaric. It was especially funny considering that the Wayne family hailed from Scotland.

But Bruce's amusement was short-lived. His eyes widened as the meaning of Alfred's words sunk in. There was no way he was going commando.

Bruce promised Alfred, "Until my clothes wear out, I'm not wearing any of those things."

Alfred gave him a good-natured smile. "There was a spindle in Athena's portion of the house. Perhaps I could figure out and make clothes more suitable to your tastes."

"Please."

The two settled into silence as Bruce continued to eat. When he was finished, he started to stand. His movement was halted when he heard Alfred clear his throat.

Bruce fell back into his seat, already dreading where the conversation was headed.

"Master Bruce…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We were washed overboard, drifted in the sea for who knows how long, and just found out that we will not be returning to Gotham for a very long time. Everyone we know will think we have died, and _if_ we ever return, it will be to friends who have moved on. You have no thoughts or concerns about that, sir?"

Alfred's candor surprised Bruce. He remembered his guardian's words just before they were taken by the sea. _Because you are a child, I wanted to provide you with the strength that I thought you needed, but I see that I was wrong. You…probably needed honesty more than anything else. _Bruce didn't think he could handle honesty at this point. At least not with someone other than himself.

Bruce shrugged. He had few friends to speak of. There was Alfred, and Dr. Leslie Thompkins, but other than that, no one. And as long as he had Alfred, he would be okay. But maybe Alfred needed more than him. Suddenly, Bruce's mouth became very dry.

Bruce knew that Alfred had been seeing Dr. Leslie. Bruce tried to imagine what Alfred was feeling. He knew what it was like to be separated from someone he cared about, but the circumstances were entirely different. The death wasn't real, but imagined. They would live as everyone forgot about them and went on with their lives. What kind of world would they return to? Would Dr. Leslie marry someone else? Would Gotham City still be around? Would Bruce be able to avenge his parents' deaths? Despite Alfred's warnings, he still planned on killing his parents' murderer. But that hope was growing more distant by the second. Apart from Alfred, it was the one thing he had held onto since that terrible night.

The boy's eyes darted over to Alfred and studied his face. He probably looked no different from that night on the boat, but Alfred just seemed so tired and worn, like he had aged ten years. Bruce wondered why he had never noticed it before. Had it always been there and he had just been too distracted with his parents' deaths to see it? Or was it a result of the last two days? For the first time, Bruce didn't see Alfred as the unflappable butler, but as a man subject to the forces of age and sorrow and death. Even Alfred had limits. He would eventually leave, whether he liked it or not, and Bruce would, once again, be alone. Out of nowhere, Bruce's sadness turned into resentment and anger.

His mind felt as if it were going to explode. He needed to get away and sort through all these things, and he needed to do it by himself. Looking at Alfred, he felt so incredibly guilty that he couldn't think straight. Bruce knew it was his fault they were in this situation. If Alfred hadn't been trying to cheer him up, they never would have been on that boat. And if they hadn't been on that boat, they wouldn't be in Themyscira, with the whole world thinking they were dead.

Bruce spoke again, though this time his voice was barely audible, choked as it was with shame. "I don't want to talk about it."

He wouldn't dare look up, but Bruce could hear Alfred stand with him as he got to his feet. He felt the butler's warm fingers tighten around his shoulder, causing him to make eye contact. Expecting to see anger, Bruce was almost reduced to tears at the kindness he saw there. It didn't make sense, and he didn't understand it, and what he didn't understand, he struggled against.

"If ever you need someone to talk to about this, Master Bruce, I am here."

Gratitude and shame warring within him, Bruce didn't know what to do. He nodded his head then walked as quickly to the door as he could, calling out over his shoulder, "I'm going to explore."

"Might I suggest changing out of your robe first, sir? Perhaps your clothes will be more suitable for such adventures. They are waiting for you in your room. And don't forget to take Philogea with you."

"Yes, Alfred."

Bruce ran to his room, still somewhat excited to figure out the mysteries of the island.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

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Thanks for reading! Again, if you have any questions, just ask. **:D**

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	6. Paradise Regained and Lost

Disclaimer: I disclaim everything.

Kipling! Nori! My favorite dawn breaker! **:D** Thanks so much! Hmm, what else should we stock the enclave with? Ah, GB! He'll fit right in with all the other visitors. Oh, and doritos. Cool Ranch style. Yeah!

There is no dialog in this chapter. I apologize in advance for that and if this chapter is really slow. I have this sinking feeling I wasn't consistent in using the proper tenses as I wrote. This chapter was really hard for me to write, and it probably shows. Feel free to email me corrections.

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**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 5: **

**Paradise Regained and Lost**

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**June 26****th****, 10:47 P.M. **

It was a time Bruce thought he'd never be able to forget. But as his stay on Themyscira continued, the date slipped farther and farther into the recesses of his mind. He was living in paradise and couldn't escape the island's effects, even if he wanted to. And that was the surprising thing: he didn't want to.

Where his nights were previously haunted by the specter of his parents' murders, he now slept through the darkness, visited by dreamless slumber. If he did receive any nighttime visits, it was only from the reassuring voice that had spoken to him on the beach the first day he had arrived, promising him again that everything would be alright and he needn't be fearful.

It had been two months since Alfred and he had washed up on Themyscira. The peace and beauty of the island worked on Bruce from the inside out, and it didn't take long before he started to hope his story would have a happy ending. Those months in paradise were the best things Bruce had experienced in the past two years.

Now when he thought of his parents, death and blood did not taint their memories. When he visualized his mother's pearls, they weren't in the grubby hands of some stranger-cum-murderer in the process of yanking them off her neck. Instead, he saw her graceful fingers twirling about the cherished strands that were a gift from his father. Red roses were the flowers Alfred had set on the family dining table about which the Wayne family breakfasted every morning, rather than the blossoms Bruce laid atop their graves. And his father's hands, which Bruce last saw warding off bullets from the barrel of gun, once again became the instruments of healing that lifted Bruce in the air after a hard day's work at the hospital.

For Bruce, life was moving on, and he was moving with it.

As the young boy adjusted to his new surroundings, his days settled into a kind of routine. At sunrise, he would wake up, have breakfast with Alfred, then tackle his studies. The butler was hell-bent on giving Bruce the best education he possibly could.

In some ways, it was an ideal learning environment for Bruce. He did not have to worry about interacting with students who pitied or teased him for being an orphan. Alfred, having been raised in England and given their traditional schoolboy upbringing, was well equipped to give Bruce a thorough and practical education. Brilliant in his own right, the former intelligence agent was the perfect tutor for a young boy blessed with a rapacious mind, perfect recall, and insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Fortunately for them, Athena's room provided an endless supply of books. What wasn't on the shelves could be conjured up magically. Merely by thinking about a particular subject, pages and pages on the desired topic would instantly appear.

That included news of the outside world.

It seemed the passing of Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth hardly made a mark. Control of the last Wayne's stock shares was now an issue for the courts, contested in a battle that could potentially last for decades. Gotham City remained as it was, threatening to slip further into the mire of lawlessness and corruption that was triggered that night in Crime Alley. The Wayne murder case was no closer to being solved. The Manor had been closed down, with future plans of turning it into a museum. The idea of strangers traipsing around his parent's home would normally have infuriated Bruce, but Themyscira was exerting its influence more and more as the days passed. Gotham City seemed a distant memory, and eventually Alfred was the only one reading the local gazette. Bruce was too preoccupied with his new life.

His favorite part of the day came three hours after lunch, when his school work was finished and he could explore the island. Themyscira was beautiful and mysterious, just like the weather. During the mornings, fog shrouded the island, only to be pierced through by the sun. The sky was sunny as often as it was cloudy. Bruce would be out one moment, basking in the golden rays, and the next he'd be running through puddles, his steps accompanied by loud claps of thunder and heavy downpour.

He loved it.

There were so many things about Themyscira that he didn't understand, and still more that he learned every day. Bruce came up with names for every body of water, the different sections of the forest, his beach, and the small mountains that bordered his home. Accompanied by a copy of Hippolyta's map (he kept the original in his room), Bruce and his horse, Philogea, went everywhere together, and the trusty steed even showed him hidden places where he never would have thought to look.

The most exciting discovery was a cave concealed behind the waterfall at the southernmost border, but he had been too frightened to enter it. It was not the falls themselves that kept him out. The water was simply a shimmery partition that covered the entrance to the cavern. Bruce knew he could easily swim underneath the tumbling liquid, having done it once before. But when he stood at the mouth of the cave, he heard a familiar screeching. At the age of four, he had taken a frightening tumble into a bat-infested lair beneath Wayne Manor. He had no wish to meet with any flying rodents ever again. It was a memory best left alone, and so the cave remained unexplored.

Having fallen in love with nearly everything about Themyscira, Bruce couldn't wait to meet Antiope and commence his training. In the days leading up to the celebration of his first decade, the young boy was a bundle of boundless energy and excitement. When Bruce's birthday finally arrived, Alfred was thankful for the reprieve.

Bruce was to meet the general at an open field about two miles from his lodgings one hour after sunrise. He was to bring nothing; she would provide all his armor. Having nothing to prepare for, Bruce left the house, thinking about what kind of cake Alfred would have waiting for him when he returned from his first day of training. He was hoping for chocolate.

Unfortunately for Bruce, things didn't go quite the way he had expected them to. Firstly, Antiope was not alone, but in the company of six other women, all looking equally as fierce as her. Bruce had grown a few inches since his arrival on the island, but the women still easily dwarfed him. As they stood around him, sizing him up, he had never felt so inadequate and out of place.

In the face of all their dour expressions, Bruce's smile gradually disappeared. After they handed him his armor, he was forced to strip down to his (Alfred-designed) underwear in front of them. While this seemed nothing out of the ordinary to those bred in a warrior society, having been raised very differently, Bruce found it both distressing and embarrassing. The armor ended up being too large, and they made sure to point out his diminutive size and the hassle that would go into obtaining him properly fitted practice gear.

Bruce was informed he should not expect that all six women would be present at the sessions. Each Amazon was hand-picked by Antiope for their mastery in the subjects they would teach Bruce: defense against magic, hand-to-hand combat, wrestling, escape techniques, weaponry use and care, conditioning and preparedness, survival skills, hunting and tracking, and battle strategy. They never gave him their names, but by the end of the first day, he had learned them all as they spoke amongst themselves.

By the time he returned home to the three-tiered chocolate cake Alfred had prepared him, Bruce was exhausted and bitterly disappointed. He revealed to Alfred all that had happened, and took heart in the fact that the older man seemed as upset about it as he was.

Things didn't get any better after that.

His training was rigorous to say the least. They met twice a week, for five hour lessons. They would provide him with instruction, demonstrate how to properly perform the technique or skill, then have him practice it again and again until he felt he would collapse. He was expected to continue going over what he had learned over the course of the week, and then prove his mastery of it at the next training session, where the process would begin again.

They pushed him mercilessly. While there was never any physical abuse, neither was their understanding or any kind of mercy or kindness. The women were ruthless and relentless, and they delighted in making things difficult for him.

Bruce knew the Amazons spoke perfectly good English, but they barely talked in his native tongue. It was only used to give direct commands or berate him. Most of the time they spoke in Greek. Fortunately for him, Alfred had started teaching him that language as soon as they had moved into the house. Bruce picked up the language quickly, so their hurtful words were not lost on him. He pretended he couldn't understand. As time passed, they began to speak in Themysciran to each other, assuming since he was too foolish to learn Greek, he would never figure out their ancient dialect. As in all things, the Amazons had underestimated him.

At first, Bruce tried to win them over. If he just worked hard enough, he reasoned they would surely accept him. He practiced everything vigilantly, quickly mastering all they threw at him. Week after week, Bruce arrived at training, excited and ready to show off the fruits of all his hard labor, only to be told what he had done wrong. The Amazons wanted more than perfection, and Bruce finally realized that nothing he did would ever be good enough for them. When he told Alfred this, the butler cautioned him that it might all be in his head, but Bruce knew it wasn't paranoia.

The comforting voice still visited him, but Bruce refused to believe it, and eventually it stopped speaking to him altogether. Pretty soon, the nightmares returned. Whatever joy Bruce had found in the island steadily eroded. He grew to hate Themyscira for making him believe his life could be better. He hated the Amazons for their cruelty and coldness, as well. It had taken a year, but by the age of eleven, he finally gave up on ever winning their approval. After all the disappointment and pain he had experienced at their hands, their approbation lost its former luster.

With all the disgust Bruce felt toward his situation and tormentors, he still reserved the largest amount for himself. How could he so easily forget what had happened to his parents? He had selfishly allowed himself to be happy as their bodies continued to rot, unavenged. While he frittered his time away playing on the island, his parents' murderer was roaming the streets of Gotham, a free man.

Bruce spent many sleepless nights wondering why he had ignored his mother and father's horrible end since he had been on Themyscira. The terror and pain was just as much a part of the Wayne Family's legacy as all the good they had shared with him. Tears of shame burned his eyes as he considered his ungratefulness. He had greedily shared in their joy, but when things got too difficult, when they really needed him, he had abandoned them.

It had taken the darkness to make Bruce finally see. The joy he had been experiencing, that he had been hoping would fix him, that he believed was bringing him closer to his parents, was just an illusion. The terror, sadness, and anger would always be there, and there was nothing that could ever remove it or take its place. To deny it was to deny himself and his parents, to deny reality itself. For two months, Bruce had run away from the truth and had only succeeded in proving that misery was the strongest force in human existence. Love and joy didn't break people. Fear, sorrow, pain, and death did, and any attempt to escape their grip was futile.

When Bruce came to this realization, the first thing he did was return to the cave. It was his penance for trying to forget his parents' gruesome deaths. As he swam closer to the cave, passed through the falls, clambered up the rocks, stumbled into the darkly lit cavern, he dredged up all the things he had once tried so desperately to forget. He made sure to go only so far as there was light. He would be unable to avenge his parents if he died falling down some hole. There was not much illumination, as it could only enter through the tiny crevices in the rock's sides. Even with the light, the cave was a daunting prospect. He had never recovered from that tumble at Wayne Manor, and the panic that rose up threatened to overwhelm him.

Not that far into the cave, the walls that hemmed Bruce in suddenly climbed high above his head, creating a large cavern. While this reduced the claustrophobic effect of the cave's entryway, the great open space amplified the screeches and fluttering of the bats, as well as the sound of Bruce's footsteps. Within seconds, the creatures swooped down, and Bruce felt the leathery wings brushing against his skin.

Falling on his knees, he gagged at the stench of the guano that filled his nostrils. The bat droppings were all over the floor. Tears streamed down his face, and he struggled to stand back on his feet. When he couldn't, he crawled farther and farther into the cave, feeling his hands scrape against the guano the entire way. It would have been so easy to pass out, but he wouldn't allow himself the release. Not when he was so close to being with his parents again. As the fear came over him, he could see their faces. They were frightened, just like him, but they were together, and they weren't suffering alone.

Eventually, he ran out of light. He sat in the dark and dank as the chill sank into his bones and his joints stiffened. Eventually, he turned back. As he passed under the waterfall, the filth of the cavern washed away, though the experience remained. It was horrific, and yet exhilarating. He had never felt closer to his parents or more certain of what he was supposed to do with his life. He promised to return to the cave the next day. And then the next day. And the day after that.

The more he went, the less the cave affected him. He learned the power of fear, sorrow, and death, but learned to push it back, to master it, so he could continue. He had to keep going, at least until he left the island and found his parents' murderer. Then Bruce would show him all the lessons he had learned in the cave. If Bruce and his parents had to go through it, that man should as well—suffer a hundredfold what they had. He balked at the idea of using a gun to do the job (too similar, he thought), but he saw no reason why he couldn't use his newly acquired martial skills to beat the criminal to a bloody and lifeless pulp. It would be more satisfying that way anyway. Until then, Bruce vowed to prepare himself, and he would use the Amazons to do it.

Slowly, everything took on new meaning, becoming the means to one end: his new mission. He practiced and practiced, but not to win the Amazons approval. If anything, he wanted to upset them and show them up. And what better way, he reasoned, than to beat them at their own game? It would be a long time in coming. They were still so much stronger, bigger, and experienced than him, but he would wait patiently, training relentlessly in the hopes of hastening that day when he could gloat over them.

Without letting the Amazons know, he supplemented their instruction with whatever combat information he could learn from the books in the library. There were no country's methods he left unstudied. Drawing from every fighting style he could get his hands on, he painstakingly practiced the forms and weapons used by each culture. It was unfortunate that he had no one to spar with, but whatever he lacked he made up for in persistence. It didn't look like Alfred and he would be leaving any time soon, so he had years to learn.

Alfred looked on all this with a disapproving eye, though he never forced Bruce to stop. However, he subjected the growing youth to many lectures and deep discussions about what Bruce hoped to prove by working himself into the ground. Ever since that night on the ship, Bruce never repeated his desire to destroy his parents' murderer, but he suspected Alfred knew his plan. In spite of this, the butler never brought it up.

As soon as he discovered Bruce's visits to the cave, Alfred accompanied him there and helped him explore it properly. After showing the young man literature on bats, he was able to convince Bruce they needed to clean it out if he hoped to continue his daily sojourns there. And so they began the year long process that would make the cave a (relatively) safe place, finally finishing near Bruce's thirteenth birthday. The long hours spent in preparing the cave gave them plenty of time to talk with each other.

While they never discussed anything related to his parents' deaths, Bruce confided in Alfred about everything else. The butler discussed his distaste for the Amazons' treatment of his ward and kept Bruce current on the goings on in Gotham City. They routinely shared ideas about how to get home and what to do with their time while they waited. Alfred actually provided a good sounding board, and it was due to his advice that Bruce varied his studies.

Together they scoured Themyscira in their efforts to make the cave more inhabitable. The island paradise was rich in resources, providing nearly all the raw materials they needed, and what couldn't be found was sent to them by Athena. They studied chemistry, so they could make battery cells to provide better lighting in the cave. Eventually, chemistry was augmented with physics, and they were able to produce electricity.

At first everything was very primitive, based on ancient and medieval texts Athena's library provided, but as their skill and knowledge increased, they studied more difficult sources of information and permitted themselves to send away for certain items and supplies. Athena was always obliging, and they reverse engineered much of their equipment and used the tools to create items of increasing complexity and practicality.

In order to create cleaning agents with which to sanitize the cave, they added botany to their repertoire. The flora of Themyscira had many other uses as well, as did its fauna. In addition to providing nourishment, their dissection gave Bruce and Alfred invaluable insight as they learned about anatomy, physiology, and immunology. And whatever lessons Bruce learned from studying the animals, he applied to his own training and rehabilitation. Alfred's medic training also came in handy.

With as much time they spent on science, their next big project was making a laboratory. Paranoid that the Amazons would find out about what he was doing and take it away, Bruce stored his most important supplies and equipment in the cave, but Alfred and he constructed a small lab outside their house, which they would both use regularly. By the time Bruce was fourteen, they were already making many of the medications found back in Man's World.

Alfred forced Bruce to study other things besides science. While Bruce had a genius level intellect and excelled at everything, he chafed against his education in the humanities. At least with science and math, he understood the benefits to completing his mission. Both required reasoned, logical thinking, which was necessary when dealing with his fear. They also challenged the mind, which produced self-discipline.

The utility of history, philosophy, literature, and foreign languages was less clear. He had already mastered Greek and Themysciran, as had Alfred, but the butler forced him to move onto Latin, and then the other romance languages. Bruce had stomached Homer, Virgil, Dante, Shakespeare, and Milton, and could recognize quotes from any classical text. He could tell you the differences between the philosophies of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, Paul, Marcus Aurelius, Aquinas, and Descartes. He could recite the kings and queens of England forward and backwards. Recount all the wars the United States had participated in, listing all the battles, generals, and winners of each encounter. But if he were asked why Alfred forced him to study what Bruce considered useless information, he wouldn't have had an answer. What he couldn't have known was Alfred was trying desperately to provide the young man with some balance in his life. Alfred worried that his charge was focusing solely on his mind and body to the detriment of his heart and emotional health.

By the time Bruce was fifteen, he had grown taller than all the Amazons, topping out at two inches over six feet. Through his constant training, exercise, and feasting on Alfred's cooking, Bruce had developed his body into something quite impressive. While there was still room for growth on his frame, he was well muscled and in peak physical condition, a genetic gift from his parents

Fifteen was a big year for Bruce for other reasons. Apart from having his largest growth spurt, it also marked his first victory against the Amazons. The pleasure that surged through him at defeating them was something he couldn't put into words, but it fed his desire to see them humbled in as many ways possible. The fear he saw on the Amazon's face when he had overthrown her was one of the most satisfying feelings he had ever experienced. After that day, it was quite some time until he defeated any of the women again. Bruce had to wait until after his sixteenth birthday before he experienced another victory. After that, his periods of waiting became fewer and far between. One by one, they all fell before his skill and strength, until Antiope was the only Amazon he had yet to beat.

By the age of eighteen, he began to strain against the confines of the island. He was regularly beating all of his opponents, even Antiope, no matter what skill was being contested. They even doubled and tripled up on him, but without much success. His body was the picture of male perfection, having been stretched to its limits day in and day out for nearly a decade. His mind was an even more powerful weapon. Honed by constant learning and an unrelenting will, Bruce deftly outthought his opponents, making it easier to defeat them. In short, he was the perfect warrior, ready for battle. And yet he was still on the island, no closer to finding out why he was even there.

By the time he was nineteen, he was infuriated that he still hadn't been returned to Gotham. He had deferred questioning the reasons behind his stay in Themyscira in the past, knowing that he hadn't been ready to face his parents' murderer. But he was ready now, and there was no logical reason for him to stay. Bruce couldn't even remember the last time he lost to the Amazons. They had nothing else to offer him. Beating them no longer possessed the thrill it once did; having done it so many times, it was rote and boring. Since he was trying to keep his extracurricular studies a secret, he couldn't even practice his other martial skills on them. And Themyscira, which had captured his heart as a young boy, was no longer a place of magic and wonder. The more he had grown, the smaller it became, until he couldn't walk in the open air without thinking he was in prison.

It wasn't long after Bruce's twentieth birthday that Alfred told him there had been a break in his parents' case. As Bruce stared down at the pictures of all the people of interest in their murders, he instantly recognized the face of one Joe Chill. More than ever, he was desperate to leave. He began to build ships, so he could take off from the island, but all of his attempts were thwarted. Athena's library would give him no information on the subject, and when he decided to just start building, all his attempts disappeared by the next day. It wasn't the Amazons. At this point, only the gods could stop him, and he was certain Athena was working against him. He despised her interference and incessant secrets. She still hadn't revealed why he was kept on the island, and his demands for answers always went unheeded. The goddess had not even appeared to him since that first day on Themyscira.

Now nearing the age of twenty-one, Bruce—surrounded by hostile warriors, bounded by their limitations, and fenced in by the commands of the goddess of wisdom and the queen of the Amazons—counted the days until he could leave Themyscira.

It couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

More Author's Notes (and lots of them):

I found the time and date for the Wayne deaths at some site called comic vine.

Themyscira is mostly of my imagination. I wanted it very magically based, rather than all scientifically and technologically based.

So, I tried as hard as I possibly could to give Bruce the type of education he would have received in the outside world while he went on his sojourn around the world to become Batman, though I know some things are lacking.

If Bruce is doing/saying things that strike you as out of character, feel free to let me know, but some of it is intentional. This is an origins story for him. He is not the finished product yet. None of the characters are at this point.

Maybe some of you will wonder why I allowed Bruce to have a happy time. I just figured that Themyscira would have a powerful effect on him. In Trinity, it overcame him so much he planted a big kiss on Wonder Woman, and by that time he had been Batman for decades. I don't think a nine year old boy would have as many defenses to break down.

It's also the reason I made the Amazons Bruce comes into contact with such jerks. It was a tenuous hope he had, and between them and his guilt, it eventually got squashed.

And yes the Amazons are jerks. I'm sure all of them aren't, but these ones were handpicked by Antiope who has an axe to grind. Birds of a feather flock together and all that.

Oh, Diana is in the next chapter. Big time.

**BTW, The Dark Knight was awesome, wasn't it? Batman owns!**

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	7. Encounter

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thank you, KN. Given recent events in my life, I bestow bettas to you in every pond of your enclave. They will carry on Bill's legacy. And maybe a koi pond. Would you like that? **:D **R.I.P Bill Anastasia

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter Six:**

**Encounter**

* * *

The festival week was coming to an end. It had started with a three day hunt in honor of Artemis, then turned into a celebration of Demeter, in thanks for giving the Amazons a bountiful harvest. Today, the Feast of the Five would close Themyscira's holiest week, which was dedicated to the patron goddesses—Artemis, Athena, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hestia. The actual feast had started in the late afternoon and was still going strong, even though the sun had set hours ago. The revelers were now dancing, eating, and drinking under a full moon and thousands of stars that hung in the night sky.

After dancing for nearly an hour, Diana made her way over to a table. Still tired and sore from the hunt that had finished three days ago, she collapsed on the cool, stone bench with a happy sigh. Taking into account her fatigue _and _the balmy weather _and_ the large crowds, it was no wonder she was thoroughly exhausted. And then there was the wine.

Diana smiled ruefully. She probably should have stopped after her third glass.

While the partying continued around her, she laid her cheek down on the cool surface of the marble table, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Various voices swirled around her. She focused a little more, and snippets of conversation became discernible. From the sound of it, quite a few Amazons were drunk. One of the less slurred voices caught her attention.

"There is nothing to fear."

The voice was Hippolyta's. Her mother sounded light-hearted and very loud, no doubt an aftereffect of the wine. Diana almost giggled. It was a few more seconds before she thought to find out who her mother was talking to. Hearing the other speaker wasn't quite so easy. The crowd was very loud, and whoever it was spoke quietly, so Diana couldn't make out all the words. Slowly, the princess realized it was her aunt.

"But you haven't seen…growing more powerful every day… soldiers having difficulty containing…worried…escape the western…"

"If you are that concerned just have some soldiers guard the boundaries tomorrow."

Diana strained to hear more, but there was nothing but music and laughter. Trying to surreptitiously see why they were no longer talking, Diana looked through squinted eyes. She groaned in frustration; they had walked away.

Diana's mind raced, one exciting idea after another forming in her head. She had always wondered why, for the past decade, the western part of the island had been off limits. Before its sectioning off, it wasn't a place she had ever visited or even found interesting. But once it became restricted, she desired nothing more than to go see it. When she asked her mother about it, the queen always said it was nothing of importance, just some people living in seclusion in accordance with Athena's command. Religious hermits held no interest for the young princess, so she abandoned her plans to investigate.

But from her mother and aunt's conversation, there was much more going on. From the bits of the discussion she overheard, it sounded like a large beast was being held captive. Why Hippolyta wouldn't let her see that was beyond her. Her strength easily eclipsed that of the other Amazons. If Antiope's soldiers could train against the monster, why couldn't she? Diana was the most powerful warrior on the island. Surely she should get an opportunity to fight it too.

Diana quickly formulated a plan. It was necessary to go tonight, before they placed a guard around the perimeter. With the feast still going, no one would notice her absence.

Diana opened her eyes and stood up abruptly. Her knees wobbled, causing her to sway a little; she grabbed the table to steady herself. She really should have stopped after that third glass of wine. Perhaps she would need a little help facing the beast. And just in case she had underestimated the animal's threat, Diana decided to bring a special weapon.

Her eyes darted across the crowd. Once she located her mother and Antiope deep in conversation with the other Amazons, she stole back to the palace.

Because of the holiday, everyone was relieved of their duties, so she didn't worry about running into any guards. Racing up the flights of stairs and down the halls, she stopped at her mother's room. Throwing one last glance over her shoulder, she pushed open the door.

Walking over to a chest of drawers, she pulled out the bottom one. Within seconds, she had located a key. Careful to leave no traces of her presence, she shut the drawer and strode towards her mom's bed. Kneeling down, she felt along the floor till her hand hit a heavy object. She pulled out the large wooden trunk, unlocked it, and peered inside. The red, white, and blue of the Amazon Champion's uniform stared up at her.

Hippolyta had told Diana about it a few times when the Princess was growing up. During the Second World War, a United States Army fighter pilot, Diana Trevor, had crashed on their shores at the same time a demon was escaping through a portal to the Underworld. Trevor went to arms, defending and dying for a people she hardly knew. The Amazons remembered her sacrifice by crafting their Champion's uniform in the heraldry of the United States of America. And when Hippolyta molded Diana out of clay years later, she named her daughter after the pilot.

Diana had repeatedly asked Hippolyta when the Amazons would choose a Champion to send to Patriarch's World, but the queen always gave the same answer: "Not yet." This frustrated the princess to no end. Diana was beginning to believe the time would never arrive. She wanted to be the chosen one, the one who would bring the values of the Amazons to the untaught masses.

Reverently picking up the uniform, she studied the gold of the breastplate and girdle. On the right side of the trunk were two red and white boots. Forcing herself to put the uniform down, she suddenly remembered what she had come for. Next to a gleaming tiara and two silver gauntlets lay a coil of gold. All the weapons were forged by the god Hephaestus, Aphrodite's husband. The tiara and bracelets were nearly indestructible, while the Lasso of Truth was completely unbreakable. Apart from being useful for catching one's enemies, the golden lariat could restore lost memories, hypnotize its captives, dispel illusions, heal its wielder, and force anyone in its grasp to tell the absolute truth. But Diana wouldn't need any of that. She just wanted to subdue the creature to test her strength against it.

She gingerly touched the Lasso of Truth. Diana almost fell backward when it started shimmering. She waited until it stopped sparkling before grabbing it. Realizing that it would shine whenever it was in contact with her skin, she attached it to her waist. Putting the rest of the uniform away, she locked the trunk, shoved it under the bed and returned the key. Then Diana left the room, closing the door behind her.

Swiftly making her way through the empty halls, she exited the palace from one of the back entryways. The light from the full moon lit her way as she headed west.

Once certain that she was out of eyesight, Diana took to the skies and landed on the beach on the opposite side of the island. About thirty feet from the shore the forest containing the mysterious creature waited for her.

With every step she took, the guilt grew stronger. She had taken something from her mother without permission and was about to defy Hippolyta by visiting an area she had been expressly forbidden to enter. Torn between her curiosity and desire to be obedient, Diana stopped walking, unsure of what to do.

Out of the corner of her eye, Diana saw a glimmer of light. Her heart beat faster, as she cautiously strolled over to the source of illumination. The trees suddenly stopped at the edge of a small lake. Diana quietly laughed to herself. It had been nothing but the reflection of the moon on the water.

Diana sat down on the soft grass, dipping her feet in the cool liquid. The busyness of the day and the hot, muggy weather finally caught up with her. She had forgotten her earlier tiredness in the excitement of visiting this part of the island, but it was now hitting her with a vengeance.

That was all she needed to convince herself to stop. She had no reason to be there. It would make her mother unhappy, and Diana didn't need to prove anything. If Antiope's soldiers could defeat the beast, it would be nothing but child's play for her.

Diana rolled her neck from side to side, allowing herself to relax. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to swim in the water. Since the Amazons were busy celebrating, it was safe to assume that the monster was securely locked away. She could swim in peace.

Diana quickly stripped off her chiton and sandals and placed them on the bank. She slowly eased her way into the lake until it was up to her waist. Then, taking a deep breath, she plunged into the water.

* * *

Restless and bored, Bruce had pushed himself harder than usual that day. He had just finished a punishing training session, and his body ached. The grit and grime clung to his tired frame, and even though there was a pleasant breeze, he still felt hot. He wasn't too far from the beach. Still needing to cool down, he decided to take a swim in his pond.

It was completely dark. The clouds had moved in front of the full moon, but Bruce knew the way to the body of water by heart. He silently made his way there, the night unable to blot out the path he had walked thousands of times over. Just like he had every other inch of his part of the island.

Bruce was tired of staying on the island, period. But being confined to only a small section made it worse. Since he wasn't any closer to going home, he needed a new challenge. Perhaps it was time to break the rules and explore. He really had no reason for keeping them anyway. They weren't his rules, and, if Antiope and her soldiers were anything to go by, there really wasn't anything the Amazons could do to stop him.

Bruce slowed as he approached the water. About ten feet out, he heard someone splashing around in his pool. Naturally. Bruce lifted his eyes up to the heaven in irritation and noticed the clouds moving across the night sky. Aided by the moonlight, he watched as the intruder swam away from him.

He mentally went over all the Amazons he knew, which was a very short list. None of them had black hair. The prospect of meeting a new Amazon was interesting, but also not worth it. As far as he was concerned, knowing one was like knowing them all. And the last thing he needed was to get caught staring at a bathing Amazon. Even if it was accidental, he knew enough of the man-haters to avoid that confrontation.

Bruce started to turn around. At the same moment, the bather had reached the part of the water farthest away. She turned, and began to swim towards him. By now the celestial light shone down upon the island, unimpeded by cloud. The full moon was impossibly bright, and the lake provided a mirror-like surface off which the silvery rays reflected, illuminating the swimmer.

Awestruck, Bruce watched as the woman came closer.

He had never seen a goddess in all her glory, but he was absolutely certain he was looking at one now. It had nothing to do with the fact he had grown up in a land steeped in myth. All the Amazons who trained him were impossibly gorgeous. If someone asked Bruce to imagine the most beautiful woman in the world, she would have looked just like the Amazons. And that was why he knew she was something more. It wasn't that she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen, even though she was. She had to be a goddess because her loveliness surpassed human imagining; it was divine. If given an eternity of years, Bruce knew he could never construct something as perfect as the lady in the water.

Compelled to see her closer, Bruce unknowingly took a few steps forward. He winced when he heard the snap of a twig under his foot. Looking down at the earth below, he silently cursed his clumsiness. Completely still and barely breathing, he just stood there, hoping she hadn't heard him. It felt like ages as he waited for something to happen. When nothing did, Bruce finally looked up.

She was gone.

The brief ache he felt quickly turned into fear. Bruce was not the only man who had seen a bathing goddess. Tiresias and Acteon also shared his great fortune. One was blinded for his insolence; the other was turned into a stag and eaten by hunting dogs. As quickly as he could, Bruce turned to run.

He didn't get very far.

The cold metal of a spearhead rested against his throat. Death was near at hand, but Bruce wouldn't close his eyes. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw.

The gods were ancient, and yet she looked no older than him. Drops of liquid cloaked her skin, causing her to glisten in the moonlight, though he couldn't be sure it wasn't some inward illumination natural to her godhood. Long raven hair clung to her shoulders and arms, framing the delicate structures of her face. High forehead and cheek bones, full lips, a straight and regal nose were all on display in perfect proportion and symmetry. Incredibly long black lashes stood out against the creaminess of her flawless skin. Her eyebrows were knit in fury above two large eyes that shone like sapphires. The blue orbs literally flashed in anger, and, more surprisingly, fear.

Even though she was clothed in what basically amounted to a glorified bedsheet and was a few inches shorter than him, Bruce had never felt so intimidated in his life.

"Who are you?!," she demanded, somewhat breathlessly in Greek. She must have assumed he wouldn't know Themysciran. He wasn't going to correct her.

Bruce stared down unflinchingly at her. He did not want her to think him a coward. If he were going to die, it would be bravely. In perfectly accented Greek, he replied, "My name is Bruce Wayne."

"Why are you here?"

"I did not know anyone would be here, Goddess"—he noticed her start at the title, though she did not lower her weapon—"I apologize."

"Fortunately for you, I am no goddess, otherwise, you would be dead. But you still have not answered my question, _man_. Why are you here?"

"I came to bathe in the water."

"Don't be smart with me. How have you come to be _here_? On _this_ island?"

"I've lived here for the past ten years."

"Liar!" She lunged at him, and it took all his speed and concentration to evade her. Her surprise at his escape evident on her face. Taking advantage of her shock, he maneuvered himself behind her. He quickly grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, though he made sure not to hurt her. She might not be a goddess, but she certainly wasn't human. There was no way, he reasoned, she could be injured by his actions, but he knew she'd make him pay for his transgression. His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as her hair brushed against his cheek. It smelled so wonderful he wanted to bury his face in the black silk.

Forcing himself to concentrate, he wrenched his face away. Even if she weren't a goddess, she probably possessed inhuman speed, like all the water deities. They were deadly, particularly to mortals who were easily dazzled and drowned by their unearthly beauty. He had come too far and worked too hard to lose it all by falling under her spell.

Bruce cautiously released his hold and took a step back, holding his arms up to show he meant her no harm.

"If you aren't a goddess, then what are you? A water nymph?"

Whatever fear he saw before had disappeared. Bruce could almost feel the heat of her rage radiate off her skin. "It does not work that way. You answer _my_ questions!" She grabbed his hand and with a flick of her wrist, Bruce flew through the air, landing unceremoniously in the pond with a splash.

As quickly as he could, he swam to land and would have clambered out of the water, but was struck dumb as he watched his attacker float over the ten feet of ground that separated them.

Before Bruce knew it, a glowing gold rope encircled him, and she pulled him out of the water. As she drew him closer, images he had repressed for so long flooded his mind. It was worse than any of his nightmares. In dreams, his parents' deaths always occurred in darkness, but everything in his mind was illuminated, and it was in broad daylight he saw his parents gunned down.

Hot searing pain coursed through his mind. He tried to retreat, to escape into the familiar darkness, but there was nowhere to hide. All that existed was blinding light. And yet he could still see. The images were terrifying.

What had taken him years to accomplish—disciplining his mind, mastering his terror, pushing back the past—was undone the instant the rope had ensnared him. But he couldn't give up. Bruce fought to force out the pain, to compartmentalize it.

The lady's face entered his vision, and he felt a sliver of relief. Grabbing onto that, he focused on her, desperate to block out everything else. Through gritted teeth he barely managed to say, "What are you doing to me?"

"I will question you again, and this time, you _will _answer me. Why are you here on this island?"

Bruce tried to stay quiet, but the words were ripped from his mouth.

"I washed up here ten years ago, and I have been here ever since."

"Where have you lived?"

"In Gotham City and Themyscira."

"How do you know the name of this island?"

"Queen Hippolyta and the other Amazons call it that."

He noticed her breath hitch at that bit of information.

"Why have I never seen you before?"

"I don't know, but my presence on this island is a secret to almost everyone."

"Why?"

Bruce was growing faint from the pain. He didn't know if it was mental, emotional, or physical, but he wouldn't last much longer. He struggled for release from the golden chain and it began to loosen. "Again, I don't know. You will have to ask Queen Hippolyta."

Just when he was sure he would get free, the rope tightened around him and he was pulled to within inches of his captor's face.

"Why were you watching me?"

"Because you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, and I couldn't look away."

His mind completely overwhelmed, Bruce barely saw her eyes widen before he sank into oblivion.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

To anonymous reviewers-

denise- thank you.** :D**

d- thanks for the review. So Diana's made her appearance, finally. I say yeah! to that too. **:D **The Dark Knight is definitely a movie I'll buy when it comes out on DVD.

* * *

As always, if you have questions, feel free to ask them. Thanks for reading.


	8. Some Truth and Some Deception

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thank you, Kipples! I think your enclave could use some peacocks. And a dragon with beautiful blue and red scales, like Bill Anastasia. And whenever the dragon cries, its tears turn into jelly beans every color of the rainbow, like Albi's, lol. I'm also thinking of stocking the enclave with junior mints and Lambrusco. (Ti piacciono la cioccolata e il vino molto!). I'm going to stop now and go take my pills. **:D**

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter Seven:**

**Some Truth and Some Deception  
**

* * *

The first thing Bruce felt when he regained consciousness was plush carpet rubbing against his cheek. It took a few more seconds for the rest of his surroundings to sink in. The torturous golden rope was nowhere in sight, but he was lying facedown on the ground and in manacles. His hands were pinned behind his back, but he kept them absolutely still, worried that any noise would draw attention to him. Casting his gaze about the room, he concluded he was back in the palace for the first time in a decade.

And he was not alone.

The voices of two women—his captor and the queen—speaking in Themysciran echoed loudly off the walls. From what he could make out, his water nymph wasn't particularly happy.

"I found him spying on me in the western part of the island!"

"You know that area is off limits, Diana."

_Diana. _

Bruce sifted through his encyclopedic knowledge of mythology. Diana: Roman goddess of the moon, the hunt, and chastity. But, as far as he knew, there was no Grecian nymph with that name. More curious than ever, Bruce continued to listen to their argument.

"Is he the reason why?"

"He is not your concern."

"Of course he is. There is a man on Themyscira! Our most sacred law is violated, and this has gone on for _ten years_ with your knowledge! What will the goddesses say?"

"Don't be so naïve. They already know."

Silence reigned in the cavernous hall. Finally the queen spoke again, "Diana, I kno--"

"How could you keep this from me?!"

The queen's voice cracked the air like a whip, "Do _not_ interrupt me. The Princess of Themyscira should know better."

_Princess?_

There was more silence, during which time "Diana" must have done something to soften the queen, because her next words were said much more gently. "I understand that you are upset, but there are some things best kept secret."

"Even from your daughter?"

_Daughter? She was human?!_

"_Especially_ from my daughter. You have heard countless tales of the corruption man brings. I wanted to spare you for as long as possible."

"What do you mean, 'for as long as possible'?"

Though he couldn't see either of their faces, Bruce could detect the resignation in the queen's voice as she spoke. "That man--"

"He's awake!"

In a flash, two soft hands roughly hauled Bruce to his feet, though he didn't remain there for long. Diana forced him onto his knees before the queen and walked over to her mother.

As quickly as he could, Bruce got to work on his chains, all the while watching the two women. They could not have looked more differently. The queen's face was beautiful, but stern and unemotional. She paled in comparison with her daughter, literally. The light blond of her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, while Diana's black waves tumbled wildly about her shoulders. The mother's mouth was set in a thin line, while the daughter's lips were pursed in anger. Their eyes were identical in shape and color, but Hippolyta's were glacial, revealing nothing, while Diana's looked like blue fire.

Everything about the queen suggested restraint. Her skin was flawless but brittle looking, drawn tight across the bones of her face, giving the impression that any show of emotion would cause her flesh to crack. Her face was completely blank and unreadable. In contrast, Diana could barely contain her feelings. Every feature was lit with fury. Her cheeks glowed and her chin stuck out stubbornly.

A tired frown briefly distorted the queen's face before she calmly resumed their conversation in Greek. "Diana, you should not treat him so. He is here as a guest."

"Of whom? Certainly not of the Amazons?"

"Of Athena herself."

Disbelief and resignation washed over the Princess's face. Hippolyta motioned for Diana to unshackle Bruce.

Before she could reach him, Bruce stood to his full height. The chains fell to the floor with a jarring crash.

The Princess took a small, almost imperceptible, step back.

Bruce supposed even Hippolyta sensed Diana's surprise, because she explained, "For the past ten years, he has been trained in the knowledge of the Amazons, as well as that of Man's World." The queen turned to him and offered a stilted apology. "I'm sorry for that welcome. For your return, I had imagined a much warmer reception."

"I've grown accustomed to the Amazons' treatment of men, Queen Hippolyta." The derision that coated his words was palpable, but even if it weren't, the sneer on his face revealed just how little he cared for the queen's apologies.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Diana take a step towards him. "Watch your tone, man."

"I'm sorry, _Princess._ I did not mean to offend." Bruce glared at the haughty Amazon.

Nearly a minute passed in tense silence. Bruce had no intention of backing down, but it seemed that Diana was just as stubborn.

Their stand off was interrupted by the queen, who cleared her throat. They both turned to look at the imperious blond.

"Diana, I have some business to attend to. I'm sure our guest is tired, or perhaps hungry. See that he is fed and give him a room for the night. But with discretion. I'm sure the other Amazons would not receive him kindly. His protection is our foremost concern."

The princess bowed her head and quietly said, "Yes, my queen."

And with that, Hippolyta swept out of the room.

Bruce watched as Diana's eyes followed her mother's retreating back until the door shut behind her. When she noticed him studying her, she narrowed her eyes.

"Come."

Diana turned in the opposite direction from where her mother had departed and exited the throne room, not waiting to see if he followed her. Grabbing a torch on her way, she entered a dark hallway. They walked on silently until she reached a very large set of double doors. Turning to him, she placed a finger on her lips, and then pointed for him to hide behind a curtain. He didn't move.

The doors opened with a loud groan, and a few seconds later, he heard her call from within. "It's clear. You may enter."

They were now in a vast, empty, and—but for the light of her torch—dark dining hall. Leading him to the head table, she ordered him to sit and disappeared for a few minutes, taking the light with her.

As he waited in the darkness, he tried to assess the situation. He couldn't immediately flee, because he had no idea where any exits were or how heavily guarded the palace was. Further speculation was interrupted by her return.

She set a large plate of fruit, fish, and rice in front of him, along with a small chalice of wine. Setting the torch in an empty holder along the wall, she joined him at the table.

Bruce eyed the food warily, refusing to touch it.

In an annoyed voice, she asked, "Is it not good enough for you?"

"For all I know, you could have poisoned it."

"That would be an outrage against the laws of hospitality."

"And yet that didn't keep you from hurling me into a pool, torturing me with your golden lasso, binding me in chains, and leading me away as if I were a criminal."

Diana leaned forward and angrily said, "The lasso only hurts those who have something to hide." Then the Princess set her jaw and gritted out in a terse voice, "I thought you were an intruder. I did not know you were a guest of the gods. Now eat."

"You first, Princess."

Diana exasperatedly grabbed for the bunch of grapes, plucked one off, and placed it into her mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing it. Looking expectantly at him, she said, "Your turn."

He took the fruit from her and proceeded to eat all of it. When he was finished, he said, "I think I want some fish next. Would you be so kind?" He pushed the plate towards her.

"I will not feed you!" Bruce tried not to laugh as the outraged Princess stood to her feet.

"That's not what I meant. Would you try the food for me?"

The gentler tone he used seemed to mollify her. She reached for a piece of fish. As she took a tiny bite, her eyes remained firmly fixed on his face, glaring at him.

Diana put the food back down and then shoved the plate back over to him. "See. It's perfectly safe."

"Thank you."

Before he prompted her, she reached for the goblet of wine and drank deeply. He gave her a tight lipped smile, with one side of his mouth rising higher than the other. Then he began to silently eat his meal. His dinner companion was now staring at the table, her fingers tracing a whorl in the wooden table.

A few minutes passed before the Princess haltingly said, "I apologize for the way I treated you." It sounded loud in the empty room.

Bruce didn't say anything, instead choosing to bring the cup to his mouth and drink. There was barely any wine left.

"As I said earlier, I did not know you were a guest."

He could tell she was irritated by his continued silence.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I think I'd like some rice now."

"Naturally." She brought a handful of rice up to her mouth and ate it. He followed suit.

Just as he finished the last of his meal, Diana stood up, taking his empty plate and goblet.

"Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"No. You are the guest."

While she gathered everything into her arms, he grabbed the torch on the wall. Bruce followed her into the kitchen and watched as she cleaned and put everything away. Courtesy of Alfred, he had never washed a dish in his life, so it surprised him to see the Princess do the chore herself, rather than leave it for one of her servants.

When she was done, they made their way back to the dining hall.

Bruce was just about to walk past their table and toward the entrance when the Princess sat back down at the table.

He stopped and looked at her.

"I wish to speak to you. Sit down…please."

Bruce nodded his head, deposited the torch back to its place in the wall, and took a seat.

"You still have not accepted my apology."

"You don't care what I think. Why should that matter?"

"I wronged you."

"Don't worry. I'm used to being treated that way."

"What way?"

"As an inferior and a pariah."

"And yet what you have experienced here pales in comparison to the way women have been treated through the ages."

Bruce knew a challenge when he saw one. The Princess was looking for a fight, even though she claimed to be apologizing. Rather than rise to her baiting, he smiled and disinterestedly commented, "I wonder why the Amazons, who disdain men and all that they stand for, have no problem imitating the behavior they find so disgusting." His bright blue eyes focused on hers. "Some might call it hypocritical."

He had chosen his words to hurt her, but he found that he couldn't take pleasure in his success. She looked taken aback, but still argued, "You cannot compare your treatment here to anything the Amazons have experienced."

"I have no wish to."

"Then what do you want?"

"For you not to lie to me. Don't apologize for things you don't feel sorry for."

Diana placed her hands on the table and leaned toward him, her eyes shining earnestly. "My feelings are irrelevant. I treated you badly, and even if I don't feel sorry, I ought to. And I should apologize for my behavior. It is inexcusable to treat a guest of the gods in such a manner. But you must realize men are the oppressors of the Amazons. And you were spying on me. I thought you were dangerous."

Bruce didn't know if he should be offended she didn't find him threatening, but he found it difficult to remain upset with her. He wanted to believe everything she said, and it made him suspicious. "Perhaps next time you should wait for more information before acting so rashly."

Diana clearly didn't want his advice. "Tell me how you came to Themyscira."

"I was on a ship, and a giant wave pulled me overboard. I blacked out and woke up on the beach."

"So Poseidon brought you here."

Bruce looked at her skeptically. "I doubt that. More like an act of chance."

"There is no such thing."

"You believe all things are ordained by the gods?"

"It is not merely a belief. It is the truth."

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't have apologized for your actions toward me. You had no control over them. And in that case, if anyone owes me an apology, it is the gods."

Diana's mouth dropped open, aghast. "How can you speak so impiously?"

"How can you trust a pantheon of gods who have allowed your people to suffer?"

"Well, what of your gods, man? Tell me. Is your world any better?" Diana sarcastically asked.

He overlooked her anger and calmly replied, "First tell me what you know about it."

"Very little. We are not allowed to keep the books of Patriarch's World here. What I do know is all related to the Amazons. We established a city state in Greece and dwelt there peacefully until Heracles came and enslaved the Amazons." Bruce noticed her hand unconsciously drift to one of the large silver bracelet encircling her wrists. "When they gained their freedom, they left your world. The goddesses gave them this island, which the Amazons named Themyscira after their original home. After that, they only left the island once. To fight in the great Trojan War."

"They? Not you?"

"I was not yet created. From what I have heard about Man's World, it is a horrible place. Full of war and hatred. Pain, sorrow, and death thrive there. And the women are treated like the dirt upon which men tread."

Bruce sat in silence as he contemplated her description of his home. It was not far from the truth.

"You don't contradict me. No wonder you stay here."

"Your island is not as perfect as you would like to think."

Her laugh was arrogant, but it amused him. "How can you say that? We have been blessed by the gods. We live in peace and prosperity, and we are slaves to no one."

"For all its beauty, it's a cold and barren place."

"We must be living on different islands. I don't recognize the place you speak of."

"I doubt you could. People see what they want to see."

The Princess gave Bruce an indulgent smile. "Alright, man, tell me how your world is better."

"I didn't say that."

"Then why do you miss it?"

"I never said I did."

Diana was growing more exasperated by the second. "Why are you still here if you dislike it so much?"

"On that point, I know as little as you. But if it were in my power, I would leave. I'm no guest here, but a prisoner."

The indignant pout was back on her lips. He returned the condescending smile she had given him seconds ago. "Though you've been a wonderful hostess, apart from trying to kill me."

She ignored his comment, continuing with her questions. "Do you have family waiting there for you?"

"No."

"Then what is there to return to?"

"I have some unfinished business to take care of."

"That being?"

Bruce stood to his feet. "It's getting late. Would you show me to my room?"

He watched her open her mouth to protest, but she ended up closing it. Diana nodded her head brusquely and stood to her feet. Walking over to the torch, she grabbed it and led Bruce out of the dining hall to his temporary lodgings.

As they walked down the dark halls, he wondered what Alfred would think of his absence. He needed to leave early the next morning, so the older man wouldn't worry.

The minutes passed in silence as they traversed many hallways. The torch she held aloft threw light on the shiny waves of ebony that swished against her shoulders and back. The dark locks distracted him as he tried to keep track of all the twists and turns of the palace.

Diana finally stopped at a set of double doors and turned to face him. "I am putting you in a room in my part of the palace. It is imperative you do not leave it. I will be by in the morning with food and clothes. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No."

She opened his door and grabbed a lamp that was on a small table by the entrance. After lighting it, she looked up at Bruce. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Diana stared at the closed door, trying to come to grips with what was behind it. After a few moments, she turned away. It was of no use. She walked the few yards to the neighboring room, her room.

Diana pushed on the door handle, nudging the wood with the side of her hip. It eased open with a familiar creek. After she closed the door, she lit a lamp before extinguishing the torch and returning it to the wall. Making her way over to the other side of the room, she threw open the balcony doors and curtains, allowing a soothing night breeze to caress her flushed face. She didn't dare step outside onto the terrace, just in case the man was out on his.

She stumbled tiredly to a washing bowl. Splashing her face and neck, she looked at herself in a mirror as the water trickled down her skin.

Diana was deeply curious about him. After hearing so little about Patriarch's World, she planned on extracting as much information from him as possible. But her excitement was a bit subdued. As she stood there, the man's critique of her island, the Amazons, and her gods played over and over in her head. It seemed incomprehensible that he was unappreciative, even angry, with the very things and people she cherished.

At the dinner table, she had immediately overlooked his complaints as outrageous and heretical, but alone in her room, she couldn't be so dismissive. Diana tried to devise arguments to bring up with him later, but was surprised at how difficult it was. His comments struck at the heart of her faith, at those things she accepted as truth. They needed no argument, because they were the axioms on which all other rational thought and debate was based. How was she supposed to explain and justify reality? It just was.

She dried her skin and made a face in the mirror. Part of her was sorely tempted to forget everything he said. He was her enemy. He didn't want explanations; he didn't deserve any.

Diana slipped into her bed, but sleep would not come. The minutes turned into hours as she kept justifying why she should not care about what the man thought. But for all her reasons, she knew it wasn't right. She was bound by her principles. If the Amazon's highest virtue was love, then it was her duty to show it to all people, no matter their gender or how much they irritated her. Having made a resolution to be kinder to her guest, Diana tried to fall asleep.

Her slumber was fitful and interrupted.

* * *

After leaving Bruce with Diana, Hippolyta exited the palace. Walking to the grove of trees she had led Alfred and Bruce to over ten years ago, she stared down at her city.

Even from this far away, she could see the Court of Temples, which was situated in the middle of the city. The five buildings dedicated to the worship of the goddesses were identical and distributed in a circle around the island's most beautiful garden. The all-white marble edifices glimmered in the moonlight, and she could see the undying flames on their altars, shimmering through the night.

Everywhere she looked, the presence of her goddesses was evident. The moon was high above her, casting its silvery rain over her island and the ocean. The various fires about the city called out to her, giving warmth and light. Cold, cool grass brushed against her feet and ankles as she leaned against one of the lovely and sturdy jacaranda trees. The quiet hooting of some owls resting in its branches drifted to her ears, as she pondered her attachment to Diana, Themyscira, and all of her subjects. Each was a gift from the goddesses, each a reflection of the creativity of her deities--a permanent reminder of their watchful care.

Normally such knowledge gave Hippolyta comfort, but tonight, she felt hemmed in by her goddesses, her judges, completely stifled, and yet utterly alone. As she walked the miles down the hill to the temples, the Amazons drew away from her and bowed, mindful of her position of authority. The authority she had dishonored, her soul whispered. As she continued walking, the waves of guilt grew thicker and faster, till she felt as if she would drown. By the time she reached the first temple, she was nearly undone.

Hippolyta wanted to sob, but it would not do for the Amazons to hear their queen despairing. They might not have been watching her, but if she allowed herself the release of tears, she knew the cries of anguish would not go unheard. Bowed down low before Athena's altar, crushed by the heavy responsibility she had all but ignored until now, the queen silently petitioned for help.

"Please, goddess Athena, speak with me," she begged in a choked whisper.

She looked up at the altar, but there was nothing. The flames did not even flicker in response.

Hippolyta kept speaking, hoping Athena was listening. "I need your wisdom. I don't know what to do."

Why was the goddess not answering? True, she had not seen her since the day the men first came to the island, but Hippolyta assumed she would at least send some kind of message or omen.

The silence was deafening. The queen's heart felt as if it would be torn asunder by fear and guilt. Fear for her daughter. Guilt for having purposefully forgotten the boy—man, she corrected—for so long.

"I will do anything, Athena, to make amends."

Hippolyta belatedly added, "Only do not take my daughter away."

The unnamed fear—her greatest fear—bubbled up out of her throat, and Hippolyta had to fight back the dread that came over her. Ever since Athena told her Bruce must stay on the island, foreboding had plagued the queen. Based on the goddesses' words that their fates were bound together, Hippolyta had worried Diana would fall in love with the stranger, and then leave when the time came for Bruce and Alfred to return to Gotham. Or worse, be abused as she and the Amazons had been by Heracles and his men. But now, because Hippolyta had handed all responsibility over to Antiope, she wondered if Athena would take Diana as punishment for the years of neglect. In any scenario, she would lose her daughter.

What would happen now?

She looked up to the altar again, waiting for something to occur. Nothing did.

Hippolyta took a deep breath and tried to set her mind in order. The day's events were wrecking havoc on her soul, and she was convinced it was making her blow things out of proportion.

A few minutes later, after composing herself, she sat cross-legged on the ground, staring deeply into the fire.

_Had_ she wronged the boy?

It was Antiope who was in charge of him, and she should trust her sister. The general had no reason to lie, she told herself. Her sister claimed Bruce had been difficult from the beginning. Would Hippolyta's intervention really have mattered?

Besides, had she not allowed them to stay on her island? Had she not given him a home? Provided him with competent and excellent instructors? Allowed him to learn the Amazons' methods and ways? Left him alone so he could grow into the strapping young man she had seen less than an hour ago?

As if called up by her thoughts, the image of the sneering Bruce Wayne flashed through her mind.

_You have failed in your Amazonian duties._

Athena's words from that fateful day so long ago rang out in Hippolyta's mind, as clear as if the goddess had spoken them beside her.

The answer was obvious. Hippolyta had not done enough. She bowed her head in sorrow and shame. "Please forgive me."

Again, the words of Athena were brought to her remembrance.

_The more you protect the boy, the safer Diana will be._

The sight of her precious daughter filled Hippolyta's mind. In the princess's arms, wrapped in the glowing coils of gold, was Bruce Wayne. It was the scene that had greeted the queen and Antiope when Diana barged into the throne room earlier that night.

Hippolyta closed her eyes as the terror she had felt in that moment coursed through her. Even now, she still felt shaken, but just as before, Hippolyta pushed down the disturbing sensations. She had tried so hard to keep Diana from discovering the men. If she _had_ neglected Bruce, it had only been for her daughter's safety. Surely, Athena could understand that. The goddess would want a mother to protect her daughter. Wouldn't she?

And yet, Diana had still found Bruce. These things did not happen merely by chance, Hippolyta knew. Again, it was confirmation that she had been wrong.

Driven by fear of losing her daughter, she had done everything in her power to prevent the two from meeting. Her conscience had told her throughout the years that she was wrong for leaving Bruce's care solely to Antiope, but Diana was all the justification she needed to keep doing it. Now Athena had removed that excuse. If anything, Bruce and Diana's meeting necessitated deeper involvement from Hippolyta.

Perhaps it was not too late to make things right, she hoped.

Feeling slightly better, though still worried at the price she would have to pay, the queen kissed the altar before rising to her feet.

"I promise I will do better," Hippolyta vowed.

This time the flame on the altar flared to twice its size, momentarily filling the temple with an orange glow. Hippolyta bowed once more, her heart comforted by the sight.

Walking out of the temple doors, she saw Antiope leaving Artemis's sanctuary across the way. The both waited till they were out of the Court before speaking to one another.

"What brings you here, Antiope?"

"You are not the only one who prays to the gods."

Antiope's irritated answer did not surprise the queen. Hippolyta had foreseen this reaction when she made Antiope leave the throne room soon after Diana appeared with Bruce.

"I am sorry about earlier, but I needed to speak with Diana."

If Antiope accepted her apology, she did not let it show. "Where is Bruce now?"

"I left him with Diana."

Antiope looked over at her, shocked. "You trust him?"

"I trust Diana."

"Enough to tell her she is the Amazon Champion?"

Again the image of Diana and Bruce draped in the shining lasso rose in Hippolyta's mind.

When Hephaestus made the suit and weapons of the Amazon Champion, Aphrodite had told the queen and general that the uniform would choose its wearer. Unsure of what that meant, they had all the women on the island try it on, but nothing occurred, so the queen stored it away.

After Diana was created and it became clear she was different from the rest of the Amazons, Antiope had tried to convince the queen that Diana was the ambassador to Man's World. Hippolyta had not wanted to believe it. Now she could no longer deny it.

The coils of the Lasso of Truth had never glowed for any of the Amazons until that day.

When Antiope tried to say something about it, Hippolyta had forced her to leave the room immediately.

"Hippolyta? Are you going to tell her?" Antiope asked with some urgency.

The queen shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "I do not know."

Antiope opened her mouth, no doubt to argue for telling Diana, but Hippolyta held up her hand. "I have had enough for today. I must sit and think about these things."

"Well, are you going to let them work with each other?"

"I have not decided that either, though I plan on taking a more active role in his training."

When Antiope did not say anything, Hippolyta glanced over. "Surely that comes as good news to you? I know how you despise working with him."

The statement caught her sister off-guard. "Perhaps I exaggerated my dislike. He is an…adequate fighter."

Those were the first positive words the queen had ever heard Antiope speak about Bruce.

Hippolyta laughed. "Only adequate? When was the last time you beat him?"

Antiope glowered, and Hippolyta regretted her words. Her younger sister had always lacked a sense of humor. "I'm sure it is only a reflection of how well you've trained him. There is no need to take offense."

"I was not offended."

It was a lie, but Hippolyta did not call her sister on it.

Together they walked back to the palace in silence.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

To my glorious anonymous reviewers (even those who included email addresses! Sorry, I'm too lazy/busy to do it separately at the moment!)

d- le sigh! I like that he was taken with her immediately too. But when you have the beauty of Aphrodite, I doubt it really could have happened any other way. **:D **Thanks for the review!

ketch117- thank you!

pinklen98- lol, you are right, it's not the greatest introduction for either of them. Hopefully they can overcome their first impressions of each other (Well, Diana's of Bruce. **:D**).

LT8- I like that he said it too, but I doubt Bruce did. **:D** But what is a guy stuck in a lasso of truth supposed to do? Lie. I think not. **:D **

* * *

Author's Note:

Hmm, plotting out the story further, I decided to change something I earlier said. Penthesilea (Hippolyta and Antiope's dead sister) is the youngest of three, not the eldest.

Thanks for reading! (and reviewing, cough cough)


	9. Friction

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So, my beta is out of town, and I was too impatient to wait. So if anything is wrong, blame Kipples. Just kidding. **:D**

Today's additions to your enclave, KN, are Jasperware in all shades of blue and green, an olympic torch, and a Manchester United jersey with the number of anyone but my ex-favorite player. Grrr. Hope you are having a pleasant trip!

Someone asked how long I expect this story to be. The short answer: really long, which I'm not overly excited about. I was hoping to have it done in 20 chapters, but I'm not sure if it's possible. I haven't forgotten the curse stuff even if it seems on the back burner as of the moment. I'm trying to drop little hints along the way, even if I'm not directly addressing the curse. Hopefully you guys will stick with me to the end. **:D**

As always, thank you for reading, and for all your kind reviews. Have a wonderful Sunday.

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter Eight:**

**Friction**

* * *

Just before dawn, Diana got out of bed, immediately remembering her promise of food and clothes for the visitor. Breakfast would be easy enough to come by, but finding an outfit for a male was a more difficult prospect. She would just wash his clothes instead.

After quickly bathing and pulling on a white knee-length chiton and sandals, Diana snuck into the man's room and grabbed his clothes, which were discarded on the floor. She went back to her room, where she washed and hung his clothes to dry by a fire, before leaving to gather some other things for her guest.

Her arms laden with various objects, she quietly reentered his room. It was still dark, though by now the sun was coming up over the horizon. His curtains were drawn shut, but a beam of light snuck through a gap in the material, reaching the top of his bed.

Diana deposited his food on a table and the rest of the items on a chest of drawers then floated silently over to the man. He was sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. The covers had pooled around his waist, leaving his upper body exposed; one of his legs stuck out from under the sheet. As she stood over him, Diana studied the enemy of the Amazons.

He was well formed. Lightly bronzed skin covered his large and defined torso and limbs. As her eyes swept over him, she was unable to keep from drawing comparisons between the anatomy of his upper body and hers. Where she was soft and rounded, he was angular and hard. The muscles of his abdomen were raised and sculpted; the oblique muscles above his hips visibly stood out. In comparison, her stomach was flat and smooth. The only thing that jutted out were her hip bones, and only a little. Even his arms and shoulders were broader than hers. He easily weighed fifty pounds more than her. She stared enviously. Everything about him was bigger than her.

Diana would never have admitted it, but she had been frightened when she first saw him. He had caught her unawares, bathing in a place she should never have visited. The only thing she had been taught about men was they were evil. Having never seen any depictions of the male species, she thought they would look like some kind of ogre, a chimera of grotesque images all combined to form some dread beast.

But watching him sleep, she saw nothing monstrous about him.

His face was open and peaceful. Thick hair so black it appeared blue where the sun touched it crowned his head. His forehead was wide and etched with a few lines. His dark brows and eyelashes stood out against his skin. Underneath his straight nose, his mouth was partially opened. Quiet and even breaths passed through full lips that sat in a strong, square jaw. His appearance was nothing like that of a woman's, but she did not find it disgusting either. Just different.

He was much less intimidating as he slept. As she considered their brief history together, she smiled at how ridiculous she had been. Why had she been afraid? He did not have her gifts or her faith in the gods. And even though he was physically larger, she was much more powerful. She had absolutely nothing to fear, especially from him.

Diana turned her back to him, busying herself with preparing his room before he woke up.

Remembering her earlier promise to be kinder to him, she tried to find the motivation. It wasn't his fault he had grown up without her advantages. He was just ignorant of what life was really like. How else could he not be happy in a place like Themyscira? The man deserved pity, not scorn.

Feeling quite benevolent, she renewed her vows. It would be her personal responsibility to demonstrate the best the Amazons had to offer. Was that not the purpose of their creation—to show virtue, love, and equality to his kind? To show them that the Amazonian way was the highest and truest? He seemed to be stubborn, but she would just have to try harder. It was a challenge, but like all challenges, she would overcome it.

And while she taught him about her way of life, she could ask him about Patriarch's World.

In an effort to gain his trust, her first act was to make his stay as pleasant as possible. She had brought a large decorative bowl, roughly two feet in diameter, into his room. The exquisite piece of pottery was gray-blue and depicted in white, raised porcelain was the goddess Demeter. As she tended to the fruit on a tree, her daughter Persephone stood in a distant field, gathering flowers.

Diana lifted a glass pitcher and poured the clear water into the bowl, allowing her fingers to play in the falling stream. Once it was full, she grabbed the purple and blue flowers she had gathered from the shade trees outside and placed them in the water. They floated like water lilies along the surface. The blossoms' aroma wafted through the air, tickling her nose as it permeated the room. She rested her hands on either side of the bowl's rim and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, allowing herself to relax.

"What are you doing?"

Diana's eyes snapped open at the sound of a gravely voice coming from across the room. In her surprise, she jolted the bowl, causing water to slosh over the sides. She closed her eyes again, this time in frustration.

Turning around, she tried to smile at him, hoping she didn't look fake or awkward. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

He shrugged his shoulders and sat up in bed, pulling the blanket up to the middle of his chest. "Well enough."

"Good." Diana felt the urge to bolt for the door, but she checked her gait, making it slow and steady. Just as her fingers reached for the handle, he called out after her, "Wait."

Cautiously turning around, she looked back at him. "Yes?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"I was just going to get them. I left your breakfast on the table. Please help yourself. I will be back shortly."

Diana quickly retrieved his outfit. When she returned he was standing up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. She thrust the clothes into his arms. "Here." Her eyes cast about the room, and she saw his food remained untouched.

A disappointed sigh escaped her lips. "Why have you not eaten? I assure you that I will never poison your food or drink. You have nothing to fear from me."

"Who said I was afraid of you?"

It had never occurred to her he wouldn't be. She didn't know what to say, but he did sit down at the table and began to eat.

After a few bites, he cleared his throat. "Would you like some?"

"No, thank you; I already ate."

He continued breakfasting, and when his meal was mostly finished, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to be watching everything I do? Because I would like to bathe and change at some point."

"I don't mind waiting." She walked over to one corner of the large room and drew his bath. When she turned back around, he was staring at her oddly. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Where I come from bathing isn't a social event."

It wasn't exactly one in Themyscira either, but Diana was thankful for the reprieve. She would have left sooner, but she didn't want to be thought of as rude or negligent, especially after her behavior last night. This suited her perfectly. There was much she needed to discuss with her mother, and now would be the perfect time to do it.

"I will take my leave, then, but I will return in an hour."

He simply nodded and walked over to his bath as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

As soon as Diana left, Bruce slipped into his clothes. He cursed at the pain he felt in his wrist, which had been throbbing since he woke up. The result of Diana throwing him into the water last night, he grimly reminded himself.

Stalking toward the balcony doors, he opened them, though he didn't step out onto the terrace. A slight breeze passed into the room, causing the curtains to flutter.

The night before, he had watched from the same place on the west-facing balcony. During his observations, he discovered a sentry passed underneath his room every fifteen minutes. It was about a thirty foot drop to the floor, but the large trees nearby would make the descent easy. He would just use them to climb down.

After he hit the ground, he would have an hour before anyone discovered his absence. Apart from alleviating Alfred of his worry, he had no reason to leave, but Alfred was reason enough. He had added incentive, though. The princess needed to be taken down a peg or two.

After the guard passed by, Bruce got to work. He moved silently through the trees and gently lowered himself to the earth. Maneuvering through the grounds, he found his way back to the stables. There was no one with the horses, which he thought was foolish, but he was not going to question it. As quickly as he could, he grabbed a saddle and threw it over the nearest horse.

Bruce jumped out of the way as it reared back on its hind legs. Once the beast returned to all fours, it started pawing the ground, its nostrils flaring and eyes darting about wildly. He slowly made his way over to the horse, speaking Themysciran to the animal in quiet and gentle tones. It stopped moving, though he knew that could change at any second.

He patted its mane hesitantly and spoke to it as if it were his own horse. When the beast seemed calm enough, he tried putting the saddle on again. This time, it didn't move. With the utmost caution, Bruce climbed onto the horse's back.

He leaned over and uttered his destination, and they were off in a flash, only slowing down when his house was in sight. Bruce was now seated fully upright as the horse leisurely trotted through the meadow. But within yards of the stable, the horse bolted towards the friends it knew were inside. The sudden change in momentum got the best of Bruce, and he fell awkwardly to the ground.

Pain instantly shot through him, making him unable to get up when he attempted it. He sank back to the ground and closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. A shadow came over his face, and Bruce bit back a groan. "Come to gloat, Alfred?" he asked.

"Keeping late hours, are we, sir?"

With a little help from Alfred, Bruce stood to his feet, grimacing slightly. "I would think you would be used to it by now."

"Usually you are home before the sun is up. Is there any reason for your delay?"

"I got detained by one of the Amazons."

"Anyone I know?"

"No. It was the queen's daughter, and I wouldn't be surprised if she came looking for me very soon."

"Should I prepare for her arrival?"

"No. In fact, I don't want her to know about you."

"Why, sir? The other Amazons will most likely tell her."

"But they might not. Her mother didn't see fit to tell her about me, so who knows what else they will continue to keep from her."

"So she is not to be trusted?"

"If they can't trust her, why should we?"

"Seeing as how you dislike the Amazons so much, perhaps that speaks in the Princess's favor."

Bruce didn't stop to think about that as he gingerly made his way over to the armory, which housed the medical supplies.

"Shall I get you breakfast, sir?"

"No. Diana already did."

The butler raised a dignified eyebrow, which Bruce pretended not to notice.

"Help me wrap my ribs, would you? I was thrown from a horse, and I have training soon."

"You still have practice?"

"Nothing has changed. At least, not for me."

"If I were you, sir, I would just tell them you are injured."

Now it was Bruce's turn to give an arch expression. Ignoring the look of disapproval Alfred gave him, Bruce slowly pulled his shirt over his head. He allowed himself to react to the pain of raising his arms, inhaling a small hiss through his clenched teeth. "How bad is it?" He tried craning his head over his shoulders, but the action hurt too much.

"Bad enough for you to forego training today. But as I know you will not, it is very red, and will, no doubt, turn into a most garish shade of purple very soon. I wouldn't be surprised if the bruising went all the way down to the bone. There is also swelling around your ribs and across your back," Alfred said, as he bandaged Bruce's ribs. The older man worked efficiently, though Bruce thought he had wrapped him a little too tightly; most likely payback for not listening, he mused. In any case, he needed the extra support if he were going to get through the upcoming session.

Alfred had just finished when Bruce felt the butler's fingers on his swollen wrist. He tried to pull it away, but was not quick enough for Alfred. "Is this from your tumble, too?"

"No." It wasn't a complete lie. He had fallen, but it wasn't off of the horse. It was into a pond.

"Would you like me to wrap it?"

The bandages on his back would be covered by his armor; on his wrist, they would be noticeable. "No. Just help me suit up."

When they had finished, Bruce told Alfred to remain in his part of the house--Hestia's section--until he returned. Then he slowly walked over to the stables.

While Bruce wasn't surprised to see Diana, he hadn't expected her to come so quietly. She was standing by his horse, laughing as Philogea nuzzled her snout into Diana's neck.

He stood in the entrance, undetected by the distracted princess.

"I always wondered where you went. I can't believe after all this time that I'm getting to see you again. Tell me, has he been good to you?"

Bruce smiled at the ridiculous scene playing out before him, but stopped when the horse started making noises in response to her question.

"That's a relief. At least I know he took good care of you and Amethea." She hugged the horse's neck. "I've missed you so much."

Philogea raised her head and looked over at Bruce. Diana followed suit. She didn't seem quite so happy anymore. All the warmth was gone from her voice when she said, "You are my responsibility. You cannot just come and go as you please."

"I don't need a babysitter, and it isn't my fault you didn't keep a better eye on me."

Diana gave him a withering glance. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

He walked past her and got onto his horse. "Considering I live here and you live in the palace, your vow might be harder to keep than you think."

Bruce could tell she wasn't used to people speaking to her like this.

In a strained but polite voice, she said, "I spoke with my mother and aunt; they tell me you have a training session today. I would like to participate in it. But as you can see, I forgot my armor and weapons."

Bruce knew she was trying to get an invitation into his house, but he needed to make sure she never entered it. Alfred couldn't be held prisoner in his room, just because the Princess decided to pay a surprise visit. The precedent needed to be set today. He did not want her around.

"Just because I am your guest does not mean you are welcome in my house. If you wish to speak with me, you can meet me at the training grounds, like the other Amazons."

The angry look on her face wavered for a second, and he easily identified the new feeling that replaced it: hurt. She blinked before narrowing her eyes and walked out of the stables. By the time he brought Philogea outside (which took longer than usual, as the horse was agitated), the princess was gone.

Bruce toyed with the idea of bringing her armor anyway, but knew that if he did, his previous statements would have been for nothing. He still felt like a jerk, though.

As if payback for his rudeness, Bruce's ribs and wrist throbbed even harder as he rode to the training ground.

* * *

As Diana flew away, the air around her felt sticky. She could smell the coming rain and heard the loud rumblings echoing across the island. It suited her mood perfectly.

She had never been humiliated before, but it seemed like an hourly occurrence since she had met the man. First, her mother had kept her in the dark for so long about his presence on the island. Then she had mistreated the gods' guest. And just this morning, her mother and aunt had refused to tell her anything more about him. She had to argue to even be given permission to come to the western part of the island, and it was only because of Antiope's intervention she had been granted that boon. Whatever brief elation she felt at this newfound responsibility was taken away when it was discovered he had disappeared. Diana had never seen her mother look at her with such disapproval and disappointment in her eyes, and she never wanted to see it again.

And this wasn't even taking into consideration _his_ behavior towards her.

He held her in suspicion and distrust. He spoke rudely to her, and what was worse, he had thrown her kindness in her face. He probably thought she would leave after his abuse, but she planned on proving him wrong. Gone were all her intentions of showing him the ways of the Amazons. Before he could learn anything from her, he would first have to respect her, and she promised that by the end of the training session, he would.

Diana set down amidst the training grounds, kicking up a cloud of dust. She could see the other Amazons strapping on their armor, preparing for the day's practice.

Antiope stepped forward once the dirt had settled. "Where is Bruce?"

She hadn't taken to calling him by anything so personal as his name, so it took her a second to put two and two together. Unfortunately by that time, the question "Who is that?" had already escaped her lips.

"The man."

A few snickers could be heard from the crowd of Amazons. Diana looked over and noticed they were Antiope's most trusted soldiers and advisors. All of them were women Diana had never really liked, as they always treated her like a child. It seemed to be a recurring theme in her life. She briefly wondered why it hadn't bothered her this badly before.

"He should be arriving shortly."

"Where is your armor, or were you planning on fighting him in your dress?"

"I won't need armor to take him down."

"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, Diana. You have already underestimated him once today."

Diana opened her mouth to reply, but the man had arrived.

"Hello, Bruce. I trust you have met my niece." The language that came from her aunt's mouth was unrecognizable to Diana. She tried to school her face, so she would not reveal her ignorance.

Diana didn't have to worry about being spoken to in an unknown tongue. Bruce just nodded his head, not even sparing her a glance.

"From now on, Diana will be taking a more active role in your training. In fact, I want you to fight her today." Antiope finally said something she understood, "Now's your chance to prove yourself."

A light rain started drizzling as they both stepped into the combatant's circle and sized each other up. The bright metal of his armor was highly polished, gleaming even without the sun, which had been blocked out by the gray skies. He was enclosed in silver and leather from head to toe, and yet his large frame was not lost in the coverings. If anything, he looked more frightening. His eyes were hidden by the shape of his helmet; his face was cast in shadow. Diana forced herself not to think of how she appeared to him, though her simple frock seemed inadequate when placed against his fearsome uniform. Refusing to be intimated by the faceless, hulking frame in front of her, Diana threw her shoulders back, raised her chin, and struck her fighting stance. He mirrored her.

In the distance, Antiope shouted the signal for them to begin.

Not forgetting her earlier promise to make him respect her, Diana charged. He evaded her, and she remembered what had happened last night just in time. The brush of his hands against her arms briefly registered with her as she quickly turned. Ducking low, she swung her right leg out, hoping to make him fall. She knew she had been too slow and expected him to easily jump over her leg. Instead, he caught her leg around the ankle and rotated it in the opposite direction, forcing her to lose her balance and flip over onto her side as a result. She lay on the ground, her leg still in his hands. Before he could do anything, she powered through his hold. Her free leg hit behind his ankles, coming from one direction, while her other leg struck the front of his calves, cutting him down to the ground, knocking his helmet off in the process. When he fell, she smiled at the sharp intake of air she heard. She had knocked the wind out him, she was sure.

By now the rain was coming down in sheets, and they both scrambled up from the ground, breathing loudly. She engaged him again, and they circled around the ring, trying to force the other person down to the floor. It seemed to go on for ages, as neither could get a good grip on the other.

Finally, as she reached to put him in a hold, her fist connected with his ribs. She heard him grunt and saw him grit his teeth. Their arms were now locked, and he rammed as hard as he could into her, putting all of his weight behind the push. There was nothing in their previous sparring to suggest he was that powerful. Surprised at his strength, she had not braced herself properly in the mud, and her knee gave out beneath her. He took advantage of the stumble and before Diana could blink, she was pinned beneath him. They grappled on the ground, trying to get on top of each other, and so far he was winning.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck a tree about fifteen feet from their position, splitting it in two with a loud crack, which could hardly be heard over the booming thunder. They both stopped moving, their fighting at an impasse. The intense glare had dazzled her, and she stared up at him, unseeing. Stars filled her vision, but as they disappeared she slowly made out the face leaning over her. He looked very pale, causing the light blue of his eyes to stand out further.

Over the din and laughter from the other soldiers, Diana heard someone say, "I think the princess has an admirer."

Angry that he was beating her, Diana refocused her gaze. The heavy rain kept getting in her eyes, and she blinked to clear the liquid. When she could see again, his face was set defiantly. The sheer determination and arrogance she saw there made her marvel. _He thinks he's going to win._

It was time to put an end to this. Using her goddess-given strength, she threw him into the air, high enough so she could get up. Catching him before he fell to the ground, she caught his wrist up behind his back and forced him onto his knees. Then she lowered him to the ground, so that his belly was on the dirt. Pulling on his arm just a little more, he rose slightly. Diana leaned down closer to his ear, saying loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I won."

His returning shot was much more quietly spoken and it came out in spurts. "You wouldn't have…beaten me without…your powers."

She dropped his arm and stood up, placing her foot on his back. He struggled to get up, so she pressed down harder. "Stay down. This is finished."

Antiope called out, "Bruce, concede. You will get to fight her again."

Whatever her aunt said, Diana could not understand it, but the man stopped moving beneath her.

"I think that is enough for today, don't you, Bruce? Congratulate Diana." The Princess bowed her head towards the General. Bruce said nothing.

Happy with her victory, Diana flew over to the other soldiers as they started to leave.

A few of them were grinning at her, but there was nothing friendly about their smiles. One of them asked, "Did you enjoy fighting him?"

Diana shrugged her shoulders, unsure of what kind of answer was expected from her. "As much as I enjoy fighting anyone, I suppose."

"We would not blame you. He is as handsome as one of the gods."

Diana looked at the rest of the soldiers. Most of them were looking over her shoulder, presumably at the man. In more than one of the women's gazes, there was something there that Diana hadn't seen in the quarter of a century she had been alive. If she had to put a name to it, the closest thing she could think of was hunger. "I…I wouldn't know."

The soldiers looked at each other and laughed. "Of course not. You're too young."

They started to walk off, leaving Diana irritated by their slights on her age. She stood there, waiting for the general, so she could hear Antiope's assessment.

When her aunt finally came over, they began their walk away from the ground and into the trees. After a few minutes, Antiope gave Diana a grudging smile. "Well done."

The other Amazons' condescending comments were quickly forgotten. Diana smiled back, feeling almost giddy. "It was nothing."

The general's face returned to its usual stern look. That was more like the aunt Diana knew and didn't like. "You speak the truth. It would have been much harder if he hadn't already been injured."

Diana stopped in her tracks and looked over at her aunt, disbelief clear in her eyes.

"Yes, he was hurt. You should study your opponents more closely. His wrist was injured, and he was moving gingerly; probably damage to his ribs, maybe his back. Admittedly, this would have been easier to see if you had fought with him before."

Diana nodded and swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. Her victory now felt hollow. The general mounted her horse and looked down at her niece. "Are you coming?"

"I will be there shortly."

"Be careful, Diana. He might look harmless, but he is anything but. It has been years since my soldiers have beaten him. And I just found out today from your mother, he speaks perfect Greek. He had led us to believe otherwise."

"Yes, General."

"I will see you back at the palace." Without waiting for Diana's answer, Antiope dug her heels into her horse's sides and took off.

Once all of the soldiers had left, Diana made her way back through the trees and into the opening of the training grounds. The man was sitting against a wall, his legs stretched out before him. His right arm was cradled in his lap.

When she stepped back into view, he rose to his feet. The torrent of water had slowed in the last few minutes, becoming once again a light rain, though he still looked thoroughly soaked. His hair was in his eyes, and he was splattered with mud. Diana stared down at herself. She pretty much looked the same way. Pulling her hair back and smoothing out her skirt, she walked over to him and angrily asked, "Why did you not say you were injured?"

"Would it have made a difference?" he retorted just as angrily.

"Yes!" She reached out for his wrist, but he withdrew it before she could touch him.

"I did that. Last night, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"If you will let me, I can make it better."

"I can take care of myself." He walked over to retrieve his helmet.

His pride would have made her laugh, but in that instant, she felt incredibly guilty. She wasn't going to leave him alone till she had fixed her mistake. Before he could bend down to get his armor, she picked up the helmet. Then Diana lifted him in her arms.

"I don't care if you dislike me. It is my fault you are injured, and I am going to help you." Her insides quaked just a little at the stony look he gave her, but then she laughed at how silly he was being.

It took her less than a minute to fly back to his place. She lowered them down into the open-roofed garden in the middle of his home, then placed him lightly on a table. Before he could object, she sped away, looking for the proper herbs and plants. She finally found them in what she recognized as Hestia's part of the garden based on the plant-life growing there.

She was gathering the needed ingredients when is loud and commanding voice broke through the calm of their surroundings. "I'm fine!"

Not sparing him a glance, Diana looked over at a door that was close by, curious as to what was behind it. It was overlaid with gold, and covered with deep red jewels that darted about in the shape of flames under a hearth made of amethyst. Distracted by its beauty and craftsmanship, she did not hear Bruce approaching, but she felt him yank at her arm, pulling her away from that part of the garden. "I don't need your help."

Angry at how ridiculous he was being, she forcefully pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Yes, you do." He looked as if he were going to argue with her, but instead he walked away and through an archway that led away from the garden. Holding the plants and herbs in her hands, she followed him, saying, "I'm going to need water and a mortar and pestle. Also a fire and some bandages or cloth strips."

About thirty feet away, there was a medium sized hut-like structure. "Over there," he said.

Once inside, he got the rest of the supplies and handed them to her. Placing them down on a table, she set to work. Curious about the quiet man standing next to her and watching her, she asked, "Didn't they teach you the healing arts?"

"Some of them. I've picked up some things on my own."

"Where should I make the fire?"

He walked over to what Diana thought was an oven made out of stones, but its top was covered with a sheet of dark gray metal. After he fiddled with a circular dial near the top, she saw some slots open up in the iron colored surface. He lit a fire inside of the oven, and a burst of blue-orange flames jumped up. "To increase the heat, turn the dial left. If you want to lower it, turn it right."

He took a metal bowl and walked over to a pole. Placing the bowl under something that projected from the rod's side, he grabbed a long handle on its other side. He raised and lowered it, and Diana watched in surprise as water poured into the bowl. Setting it down on top of the flames, he went over and deposited himself on a nearby stool.

Taking one of the flowering plants she had gathered, Diana tore off its leaves, throwing them into the water along with some strips of cloth. The vapors from the leaves were supposed to ease muscle aches and pains. They also smelled lovely. It was one of Diana's favorite scents. Her tension seemed to melt away as she prepared the rest of the treatments.

Her growing calm seemed at odds with the intense man beside her. The silence was so incongruous with her feelings, she had to break it. "If you are interested, I could teach you everything I know about this."

He didn't say no, so she continued, a smile on her face, "Of course, I'd want something in exchange."

"Naturally."

The water started boiling, so she lowered the heat. She walked back over to him and reached for his armor. The look he gave made her hesitate. "I need to take off your shirt," she said sternly. Quickly removing his breastplate, she stared at the tunic underneath. She thought about lifting it over his head, but it would only hurt him to raise his arms more than he had to. Her eyes darted around, but she didn't see a knife readily handy, so she just tore the material apart down the front and let the ruined shirt drift to the floor. He already was covered with bandages, which surprised her.

Bruce looked down at his mangled clothing. "I could have just taken it off myself." Diana wasn't sure, but he sounded as if he were trying not to laugh.

"My way was faster." Pulling over a stool, she sat next to him, and began to remove the bandages around his ribs. "How did you wrap them so well by yourself?"

"I've had a lot of practice."

"Do you get injured often?"

"Often enough."

Diana removed the last of his wrappings and gasped at what she saw. Huge purple, almost black, bruises marred the skin of his back and ribs. "I don't understand," she quietly said.

"That was actually from a horse. You're only responsible for my wrist."

"I really wish you had told me. I feel terrible."

After her promptings, he raised his arms in the air. "Now this is going to sting a little, but after a few seconds, it should feel much better."

As carefully as possible, she applied an ointment to the bruised area. He must have been in great pain, but his face remained impassive. Walking behind him, she rubbed it over his shoulders and back. Then, taking the cloths she had warmed, she wrapped his ribs and covered them with a paste. "It should harden in about three minutes."

She pulled up a stool a sat beside him. Taking his wrist, she ran her fingers over the swollen flesh. "I don't remember using this much force. It's probably sprained."

"Why aren't the other Amazons like you?"

Diana looked up at him, taken aback by his question. How much should she tell him, she wondered. In the end, providing as little information as possible seemed the best course of action. "I am not that much different from them. Out of love for my mother, the gods blessed me with unusual gifts."

"Flight from…Hermes? That's different, since he's male. I'm sure your patron goddesses helped you too. The ability to converse with animals probably comes from Artemis. I imagine you are very good at hunting and tracking. Demeter is no doubt the source of your strength. I'm going to assume Athena gave you wisdom. Aphrodite is responsible for your looks, but what did you receive from Hestia?"

Diana was surprised at his clinical observations. How he knew so much about her gods and had assessed her gifts in so little time was unsettling. "I don't know." Diana had not learned all of her powers yet, or how to completely control them, but that was best left unspoken.

She looked back down at the wrist she had forgotten she was holding. Setting it down gently in her lap, she reached over and grabbed another paste, rubbing it thickly on his wrist.

The concoction caused goosebumps on his skin. The sight made her smile. "Cold, isn't it?"

She wrapped his wrist up just as tightly as his back and made him sit down on a nearby couch, propping his arm up to keep it elevated. Then she sat back down and admired her work.

Bruce lowered his arm and tried twisting at the waist. "I can hardly move."

"That's the point. You should rest these next couple of days."

By the way he was looking at her, Diana doubted he was actually going to listen to her advice.

"Thank you."

Diana tried not to show her surprise at his roughly spoken appreciation. "You're welcome."

Looking around the room for the first time since she had entered it, Diana saw all sorts of interesting things she couldn't identify. "What is this place?"

"My lab." He got up and retrieved a jar from a shelf. Dipping his fingers in the white powder, he licked the residue, then capped the bottle.

"What's that?"

"One of my magic medications."

"What is it called?"

"Aspirin." Before she could ask another question, he grabbed a heavy book from the shelf and sat back down on the divan. She joined him, and he handed the tome to her.

Opening the book, she settled it in her lap. A small blush crept over her face as she admitted, "I can't read this."

"Because it's from Man's World?"

"That and I can't read this language. What is it?"

"The language is English. Antiope was using it to communicate with me earlier today. The book is about medications."

Looking down at the squiggles and dashes on the pages, Diana longed to know what was written there and about the world that had produced it. The man—Bruce, she reminded herself—was the only way to access that knowledge. Diana wasn't accustomed to asking for anything, and she felt awkward. Absentmindedly, she leafed through the pages, staring at nothing in particular. This stopped when the edge of a sheet sliced into her skin. She pulled her hand back and looked over at Bruce.

"You said you would have beaten me if I didn't have powers."

"You may be the strongest, but you aren't the best fighter on the island." His words stung, but she sensed he was telling her the truth. Swallowing her pride, Diana asked, "Would you teach me?"

"What would I gain from this?"

"The best sparring partner on the island. I know you have not lost to my aunt's soldiers in ages. You are probably looking for a new challenge. I could give you that."

"I'm already going to be training with you."

"In front of my aunt and for how many hours a week? Ten at the most, probably much less. I would be willing to come as often as you needed, provided it doesn't get in the way of my other responsibilities."

"Or your mother finding out?"

Diana looked over at him and saw that his lips were twisted into a smirk.

He was making fun of her. Diana's cheeks burned once again in embarrassment. The past twelve hours had been the most tumultuous of her life, and she didn't know how to deal with all the anger, disappointment, and humiliation at once. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she would cry. Unwilling to abase herself any further before him, she rose to her feet. "I can see my offer holds no interest to you. Thank you for your time. I will see you as General Antiope permits."

Even though her vision was blurred with unshed tears, she walked out of his presence slowly and steadily with her head held high.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

To the fabulously unique and wonderful d- you know what they say about imitation and flattery, but thank you for clearing that up. I was wondering. I'm glad you were able to sympathize with Hippolyta. I realized I was making the Amazons too one-dimensional. I hope to give Antiope a fair shake as well. We'll see if I can actually accomplish it. Hope you enjoyed the most recent interactions of our favorite couple. **:D** If there were a gold medal for best coupling ever, it would go to them. They would also win the silver and bronze. **:D**

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Author's Notes:

I've written very few fight scenes, and that might be apparent. As "research", I youtubed some Greco-Roman wrestling videos, which I assume would be akin to the fighting style of the Themyscirans. So the things I'm describing are hopefully (recognizably) based off of that, although I'm sure I threw in some things that aren't found in Greco-Roman wrestling at all.

Aspirin isn't that hard to make, provided you have the right chemicals, and most of them would be readily available on an island paradise. And what isn't could be given by Athena. Or Bruce could have done it old school by boiling willow bark.

So Diana is 25-26. I had Athena say earlier that she was a grown woman when Bruce had first arrived at the island, which would make her roughly fifteen. According to some website I found, in ancient Greece, fifteen was beginning of adulthood for women. Seventeen or eighteen for guys, if you were curious.

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Thanks for reading!

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	10. A Much Needed Break

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks, KN, for your utter "Flash-ness" in getting this back to me so quickly. **:D **I think the enclave needs a BBQ-pit, so voila! It's there! I will also provide mesquite briquettes, lighter fluid, and matches. I look forward to my cheeseburger!

Note: I just started grad school. This will affect how often I can write, and therefore, how often I can update. I promise to finish this story, but I can't say how soon it will be.

Another Note: For the next couple of chapters, it will seem a bit slow, unless you read for BMWW-ness only. **:D **I view this story as going in waves; we are in slowly climbing the crest, before it falls over and we start over again. Yeah, that's not vague at all. In any case, for those who love the action, please be patient. Things will pick up in that department eventually.

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 9:**

**A Much Needed Break**

* * *

As Antiope rode back to the palace after the training session, she couldn't help but smile. Very soon, she would wake from this horrible dream.

For ten years she had argued with Hippolyta for the men's expulsion, but with no success. Because of the queen's obstinacy, the general knew there was something her sister wasn't telling her. Their presence made no sense, and the longer it continued, the greater Themyscira was at risk. Athena must have been holding something over Hippolyta's head, and there was only one thing that the queen cared for more than Themyscira: her little sun and stars. While Antiope was fond of Diana, Themyscira came first. Always.

The island paradise had been her refuge after the humiliation and shame she had been subjected to by Heracles and his men. Antiope could remember that day, thousands of years ago, when they reached the shores of Themyscira, after walking for months through the parted Aegean Sea. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she belonged somewhere. The island welcomed her with open arms, helped her to heal. It was more than her home; it was a refuge from the brutality of Man's World.

The only being who had taken away that sense of security was Hera, the very goddess they were trying to hide Bruce from. The Amazons had come so close to losing every thing that day, and the general refused to let anything like that ever happen again. Especially because of an upstart man, who was most certainly the descendant of that swine Hippolyta had told her about.

The only protection they were offered from the rage of the queen of the gods was Athena's promise she would keep them safe. The same gray-eyed goddess who had only freed the Amazons from Heracles and his men after exacting an impossible promise from them—do not take revenge on their captors. It didn't take a goddess of wisdom to know they couldn't keep that promise. Of course they slaughtered their captors, and relished in doing it. The only unfulfilling thing about the experience was that Heracles had already left with many of his soldiers. While Athena now forced the Amazons to guard Doom's Doorway throughout all eternity as punishment, Antiope did not regret that night of blood. What she did regret was not going further into Greece and killing every last one of those dogs. There had been plenty of Amazons who were prepared to do it, but Hippolyta ordered them to stay.

Taking all of this into account, Antiope had to do something. And so, during the Feast of Five, she had spoken of the danger on the western part of Themyscira, knowing full well the princess was listening.

As expected, the curious Diana ran off to the forbidden part of the island. What Antiope could not have foreseen were the Queen's actions. The general had fully expected Hippolyta to remove them from the island once Diana discovered them, and yet she had done nothing. It made Antiope furious.

However, the queen's inaction toward the enemy was softened by the revelation of Diana as the Amazon Champion. Antiope was quite certain her niece did not like Bruce. She would cultivate that dislike and turn Diana against her mother, supporting Antiope in her bid to get the men off the island.

And if that failed, there were other options left to the general, but they were too extreme, and Antiope did not want to use them as anything but a last resort. Fortunately, it had not come to that point yet.

That morning, when Diana asked to train with Bruce, the general had supported her. At first the queen had refused, but Antiope had been persistent. And it had paid off.

By the time she arrived back at the palace, she was quite pleased with herself.

"So, how was the first training session?" Hippolyta asked as Antiope strode into the throne room, removing her helmet and performing her customary nod before her elder sister.

"It went as predicted."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Diana beat the man. Were you expecting otherwise?"

"From what you said of him last night, I thought he would pose a greater threat."

Antiope shrugged. "Diana did not defeat him soundly, and she was helped by the fact he was fighting with injuries."

"If you knew he was injured, why did you let them spar?"

"Bruce is resilient. He knows his limitations better than I do. If he thinks he can fight, who am I to say differently?"

"He is young and proud. They never stand down from a fight at that age. He risked even further injury.

"The proud can only learn their lessons the hard way."

A few seconds passed before Hippolyta spoke again. "Perhaps I should be in charge of his training."

Antiope kept silent, trying to think of the best way to prevent that from happening.

"I'm surprised you do not jump at my offer. These past ten years, a week never went by without you asking me to relieve you of your duties," Hippolyta said.

Antiope lied through her teeth. "I have been too negative. Now that we know Diana is the Amazon Champion, I would like to oversee her training as well. Bruce is the best warrior on the island, and it makes sense to have the two working together. As I already have so much experience with him, we would only lose ground by changing over his instructor. Besides, if you began training him with your group of soldiers, more Amazons would find out about his presence here."

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" The queen's words were coated with reluctance.

"I understand your hesitance, sister, but this is for the best. If Diana trains against him, she will learn his weaknesses. Wh-…if he turns against us, the Amazons would be better off if Diana knew how to defeat him."

"Yes, but I worry for her."

"I can tell you now, Diana most assuredly does not like Bruce. And even if she did, he would never like her. You have seen him recently. Did you not sense his disdain for the Amazons?"

"Yes. It concerns me actually. Athena wanted us to befriend him."

"As I told you before, from the moment I met him he wanted nothing to do with the Amazons. I imagine the rest of his world is like that, which is all the more reason for Diana to train with him. As the Amazon Champion, she will be an ambassador between the two worlds. She must be prepared to face the hostility of his kind."

Hippolyta sank down onto her throne, rubbing her brow as if she were suffering from a headache. "Diana is not ready."

"Hippolyta, she is twenty-six years old. By this time, you had already fought in multiple battles and were queen. Surely, with all the blessings of the gods, she will succeed."

"I just worry for her."

"She is not Penthesilea," Antiope said quietly. She hated using her beloved younger sister's name in this manner, but Penthesilea would understand what was at stake.

"I blame myself for her death," Hippolyta replied just as softly. "I couldn't live with myself if anything like that happened to Diana."

The admission of guilt made Antiope's throat clog with emotion. She had always blamed Hippolyta for their sister's death, too. Getting a hold of herself, Antiope pressed on, no longer speaking low, but in a firm and commanding tone.

"You must allow Diana to grow up. And if anyone can handle it, it is her. I will be watching them, Hippolyta. Trust me." For a brief second, Antiope felt guilty, but she reminded herself she was doing what was necessary to protect Themyscira.

The queen looked over at her cautiously. Finally Hippolyta relented. "Alright, but if Diana does not want to continue training with him, you cannot force her. And I will come to every other practice, regardless if you are there. I must check his progress for myself."

"Of course, sister."

The two went to eat and were joined nearly half an hour later by an extremely agitated Diana.

"What is the matter, daughter?" Hippolyta asked.

"I do not want to talk about it. What are you having for lunch?" The princess's smile looked incredibly forced. The sight gave Antiope a twinge of satisfaction.

"I take it things did not go well with Bruce?" Hippolyta said, ignoring Diana's change of subject.

The princess looked over at her mother, and it was clear she was quite upset, but she didn't say anything.

"You must learn not to let him get to you," the queen advised.

"Yes," Antiope added, "he likes to make people angry. If you let him see that, he will win."

Diana sat down sulkily. "I do not like him."

Antiope almost laughed. "What did you expect, Diana? He is a man."

Hippolyta pushed some food towards her daughter. "Eat up. I'm sure it will not trouble you in a few minutes."

Diana glanced over at the food, and then stood. "Please excuse me. I'm not very hungry."

"Diana, do not allow him to ruin your day. He should not have that kind of power over you. Sit down, and join us."

"Yes, Mother." Diana returned to her seat and ate her meal as quickly as possible, finally receiving permission to leave when she was finished. Fortunately for Antiope, the food made no impact on the princess's mood.

After Diana left, Hippolyta turned towards Antiope, somewhat amused. "I suppose I needn't worry about her liking him."

Antiope gave her a non-committal shrug. "The next session with Bruce is in four days. Will she be ready by then?"

"That is up to her. Give her time. She has only just discovered about Bruce."

Antiope was sorely tempted to point out there was no time for coddling a spoiled princess. Every moment more that Bruce was on the island, they were in danger. But those arguments had never swayed the queen in the past. "I will give her all the time she needs. But in the meanwhile, we should tell her she is the Amazon Champion."

"Leave that to me."

"You will tell her soon?"

"I will tell her when I think she is ready." Hippolyta's voice indicated she would brook no argument. There was nothing left for Antiope to do but finish her meal in silence.

* * *

That first day after meeting Bruce still rankled in Diana's memory. Even nearly a month later, just thinking of him upset her. Fortunately, no one had spoken to her about coming to practice again. She wasn't sure she could handle it.

Daily she walked to the Court of Temples and visited the altars of all her goddesses. From Aphrodite, she asked for good will. Athena she petitioned for wisdom in how to deal with such a man. Demeter was asked for strength and patience. Artemis had a brother, so Diana prayed she would have sisterly affection towards Bruce. As for Hestia, goddess of home and hearth, she did not know what to ask. But in the month since she started going, she was no closer to feeling anything but anger: at her situation, at Bruce, but most of all, at herself.

She knew she was acting childishly. As her mother said, he should not have power over her to ruin her mood. Sure, Bruce was rude and arrogant, but none of that should have mattered. She had relinquished control, and she still hadn't gained it back.

Diana was almost on the point of giving up. Why did she continue asking her goddesses for help, only to have her hopes dashed? There was no peace and no answers. Even the words she said before their altars seemed empty, devoid of any power. She trudged back to the palace, upset with her deities for not helping her, and then guilty for finding fault with them.

She was on her way to her room, when she heard her aunt call out from behind, "Diana, I wish to speak with you."

Diana closed her eyes for a brief second and released a small sigh. After setting her face to rights, she turned around and bowed her head in respect. "How may I help you, General Antiope?"

"General? There is no need for such formality, Diana. I'm your aunt."

Diana tried not to look skeptical. "As you wish. Is there something you need,...aunt?"

"We have missed you on the practice field."

The Princess raised a disbelieving brow. Trying to bite back her sarcasm, Diana replied, "With soldiers as talented as yours, I'm sure my presence is not missed in the slightest."

"Did Bruce say something to you that day to make you think you were unwanted? Is that why you have been gone this whole time?"

Antiope's tone grated on Diana's nerves, causing her to say harshly, "What he says or thinks is of no importance to me. I just assumed that you and your soldiers could handle him. He was easy enough for me to take down. Surely all six of you could accomplish such a simple task."

Diana watched as her aunt contorted her sneer into a fake smile. "But Princess, there is no greater fighter than you on the island. And I must confess, my soldiers and I have not been so fortunate against him. He routinely bests us."

She knew her aunt was lying, at least in regard to classifying her as the better fighter. At least Bruce had been right about that; she had only won because of her powers. "I do not see how my sparring with him will make your soldiers improve."

"It is already past the point where I can expect any improvement from them. Only you have the strength to keep him in check. Especially now that we know you are the Amazon Champion, I would have thought you would be there."

"What?" Diana blinked, disbelieving Antiope's words.

"You did not already know? I thought your mother had told you. I'm sorry, Diana. I should not have spoken."

Diana was too dazed to say anything.

"Your mother will be angry with me for letting it slip."

Diana was too overwhelmed with emotion to think straight and blurted out, "I will not let her know."

"Good. I was hoping you could train with him tomorrow, outside of his regular practice hours. Perhaps work on sharpening your own reflexes. Can I count on you?"

"Of course."

Antiope bowed slightly before walking away. As soon as she was out of sight, Diana flew to her room. Throwing herself on her bed, she laughed in delight. This is exactly the thing she had been waiting for, a sign from her goddesses. She felt so happy, she could have hugged anyone--including Antiope. In the mood she was in, she would have embraced Bruce.

Eventually Diana's euphoria subsided. Rolling off the side of her bed, she fell to her knees and praised her goddesses. Tears of gratitude came to her eyes as the frustration of the past month fell away, all but forgotten. Though she had been petty and upset with how Bruce had treated her, the goddesses had still blessed her, bestowing on her the greatest honor imaginable. Out of all the Amazons, they had chosen her to show Man's World the way of her people. Eventually, when she was ready, she would get to explore the whole world.

Such generosity was deserving of her gratitude and obedience. Diana vowed that she would not fail her goddesses or her people. Bruce, however much he might irritate her, would not control her actions. While the influence he had on her feelings was out of her control, Diana was master of her own person. From now on, she would not respond to his taunts and jeers.

The enormity of the responsibility was slowly dawning on her, but she welcomed this new step in her development as a woman. For too long she had been sheltered and protected. Her mother loved her and wanted what was best for her, but Diana sensed it was time to discover things for herself, rather than taking her mother's word for it. Still, she would never dismiss what her mother said. Hippolyta was the wisest woman she knew, and there was no other person she respected more. But in spite of that, her mother still viewed her as a child, and Diana was tired of being treated as one. Apparently, the goddesses agreed with her.

With a lightness of heart, Diana mentally prepared herself to meet with Bruce the next day.

* * *

It had been almost a month since Bruce had seen Diana.

It was the most frustrating month of his life.

Diana had been right. Training with her would have been a new challenge. Against her strength and other abilities, he would have been able to perfect all the martial skills he had practiced alone over the past decade. He could never truly know how good he was without testing himself against a real opponent. Having worked alone for so long, Bruce wanted to prove himself, and there was no one better than her.

In spite of this, he hadn't jumped at the tempting offer. He had learned the hard way that every apple had its worm, and there were plenty of bugs he had to work out of the proposed collaboration.

Bruce liked working by himself and was accustomed to it. He trained with Amazons, but there really was no give and take. There was always an unevenness in the relationship. Bruce had come to them with nothing, but now they were unable to give him anything. Working with the Princess would be a unique situation. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of her being on equal footing with him.

Additionally, Diana was proud, and he didn't know how to act around her. He wasn't going to sugarcoat his words to avoid bruising her ego, but he felt badly when he saw the effect his remarks had on her. With the Amazons, there were always critical words thrown back and forth. They never reacted to his caustic critiques, and he had learned long ago to ignore their acid. All that had mattered was getting better and stronger. But Diana's emotions were always on the surface. He would have to teach her how to bury them if they were to work together. Or teach himself not to care what she thought.

There was also the issue of Alfred's safety. How long could he be in close contact with the Princess without her finding out about him? Even if he found a way to trust her, he would probably never tell her. He knew almost nothing about her, and his past history with the Amazons did not bode well in her favor. Alfred was the only family he had left, and he couldn't risk letting someone that powerful being aware of his existence.

Lastly, and probably most worrisome, there was the intense attraction he felt towards her.

Until he had met her, Bruce had never felt that way about any woman. The only two he cared for were his mother and Dr. Thompkins, and the feelings they created in him were much different from the ones Diana inspired. He had been too young to develop crushes on the Amazons when he had first met them, and by the time he had reached puberty, he had already considered Antiope and her soldiers to be harpies. They hardly seemed human, let alone female. The cool apathy he held for them only highlighted how differently he felt about Diana. He could have chalked it up to infatuation. After all, he was only a man, and, as he had already admitted, much to his embarrassment, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. But Bruce knew it ran deeper than that. He didn't like her, but this attraction he felt was a potential stumbling block.

Diana stirred in him an excitement he hadn't felt since his first days on Themyscira. Remembering how much he regretted falling under the island's spell, Bruce couldn't afford to be taken in again. To make matters worse, her allure was stronger than that of Themyscira's, and working beside her would be a constant battle. No doubt it would be the hardest war he'd ever wage, if his previous experience was anything to go by.

The pull of the island was strong. Bruce wanted its promises to be real, to believe that he could be happy again. He wanted it so badly he had to visit the cave daily to remind himself that paradise didn't exist; it was only a lovely deceit. It didn't offer truth, only oblivion—forgetfulness of one's pain and suffering. It whispered to him at night not to be afraid and gave assurances that everything would be alright. The empty promises were like a siren's call, but his parents' blood cried louder and kept him from giving in. While the idea of Themyscira—of paradise—haunted him, it could never hold him. It was intangible and invisible.

Diana, on the other hand, was flesh and blood. He had smelt the flowers in her hair, heard the rich timbre in her voice and laughter, drowned in the concern her beautiful eyes expressed as she tended to his wounds, experienced the warmth of her skin as she lay pinned beneath him in the dirt. Diana was paradise embodied, and if she wrapped her arms around him, he would never want to be released. In light of that, Diana was a threat to everything he had trained for in the past ten years. And yet, she was the one person who could make him better. While working with her would be dangerous, it was necessary.

Bruce had come to this conclusion about an hour after she had left. And he was pretty sure he arrived at his decision uninfluenced by his desire to be near her. Even if he was acting under persuasion, he reasoned he owed it to his parents to struggle against it, to do anything that would better prepare him for the day he would leave the island. Given time, he was sure he could withstand Diana, eventually grow immune to her. After all, he hadn't even spent a whole day with her. He didn't know all her flaws, vices, and irritating habits. No one was perfect, and Diana was too good to be true. He would eventually see through her magic, just as he had with Themyscira.

But just in case he failed, he decided to tell Alfred. Alfred wouldn't let him get distracted. He vowed to tell his trusted adviser about the whole situation, but kept putting it off. It had seemed pointless, since Diana had not come to any of his sessions.

Now, after a month had passed since their last meeting, Bruce decided to take matters into his own hands. That night Bruce planned on going to the palace, finding the princess, and getting her to train with him. He couldn't put off his discussion with Alfred any longer.

As he sat in front of Alfred, relating the physical and emotional sensations he felt towards Diana, Bruce left out nothing. It was extremely awkward, but he knew this was too important a decision to withhold details due to something so insignificant as embarrassment.

Bruce looked over at the man who had been his sounding board for most of his life and felt defensive. Alfred seemed thoroughly amused, and it irked Bruce. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It is about time something good happened to you on this island."

"Alfred, I didn't tell you this so you could play matchmaker. I want you to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

"You are twenty years old, Master Bruce. Twenty-one tomorrow. I think you are entitled to the occasional bout of stupidity. It would probably do you good."

Bruce closed his eyes in annoyance. "Look…I know you want me to be normal, to be happy, but it's not going to happen. I can't let it happen." When he opened them again, Alfred was frowning at him.

"And why is that?"

"You saw what happened when I first came to the island. How easily I forgot my parents' deaths."

"Even if you tried, I don't think that's something you could ever forget, sir."

"And I hope I never do."

"There was more to your parents than those last minutes in the alley. You would do well to remember that."

"I'm aware of that, _Alfred_." Bruce couldn't keep the edge out of his voice, but the butler didn't even seem to notice, which irritated him even more.

"I don't think you are, sir. Otherwise you would not spend all your time wallowing in their deaths and in that stupid cave."

Bruce looked up sharply, but said nothing.

"Forgive me, Master Bruce. I just hate to see you unnecessarily ruin your life."

"Get used to it." Bruce ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. "I know you mean well, but how many times do we have to have this conversation?"

"As many times as it takes. I know you were disappointed when your trainers ruined your experience of the island, but that is no reason to make yourself miserable."

"At least that's one thing I can thank the Amazons for. They opened my eyes."

Alfred shook his head. "Your views disturb me. In spite of everything I have taught you, in spite of living in a veritable paradise, you persist in believing that good does not exist."

"No. I know it exists. I have experienced it. With my parents, with you. I don't dismiss its existence. I dismiss its claims to ultimate power. Your philosophers can say all they like. Goodness can inspire in the short term, but it can't wear a person down. It can't lay them low. It won't stop a murderer. Only fear, and ultimately death will."

Bruce stared Alfred down, daring him to say something about Joe Chill.

He was slightly disappointed when Alfred didn't take the bait. Instead, the butler raised his brows and disinterestedly said, "And Miss Diana, what does she think concerning the matter?"

"What does that matter? I haven't discussed it with her, and I don't plan to either."

"Just humor an old man."

Bruce thought about the minimal conversation he had with Diana, and tried to size her up. "If I had to guess, she would side with you. She's very naïve, almost to the point of ridiculousness. And her mother has left her so sheltered, she's probably never experienced pain in her entire life, so she dismisses it. All she knows is happiness; she doesn't understand darkness, and even if she did, she'd find a way of turning it into a blessing from her goddesses."

"If that is true, Master Bruce, then you must be careful with her."

"If she wanted, she could tear me limb from limb. If anyone should be careful, it's me."

"I did not mean physically. She is not like your other Amazons, and you shouldn't treat her the same way."

"You haven't even met her; how would you know?"

"Aside from the fact you view her as a challenge instead of a nuisance, what other Amazon would have taken care of your injuries? Or felt badly for fighting you while you were hurt? I might not know her, but from what I have heard, I like her. And it seems you do too."

Embarrassed and annoyed, Bruce coldly said, "I don't like her. I'm attracted to her, which is natural since she looks like a goddess."

"Perfectly natural, sir."

With more force, Bruce said, "I don't like her."

"Perhaps it is a bit too soon for that. After all, you've only just met her." Alfred wasn't smiling, but Bruce could hear it in his voice. Bruce realized if he kept protesting, it would only encourage the English busybody. Still, he needed to work out his frustrations, and since Alfred wasn't willing to engage him in a war of words, Bruce needed to leave.

"I'm going to go train for awhile, and then speak with Diana. If I'm not back till late, you know where I am."

"Do try to have fun, Master Bruce."

"Goodbye, Alfred."

Stopping by the armory, Bruce grabbed a quiver, a bundle of arrows, and his favorite bow, and decided rather than calling Philogea, he would take the three mile walk to the shooting grounds. Needing to burn off his anger at his current situation, he ran along the stream, following it all the way until he reached the clearing. Even encumbered with his weaponry, it did not take him long to get there.

The grounds were roughly oval shaped, flanked on one end by the river, the rest of it surrounded by trees. At the end, the grass sloped upward gently, allowing for a varied arrangement of targets, which were strategically littered all over the place. Through a relatively complex system of pulleys powered by the river, Bruce had constructed two circuits of movable targets—one set moving vertically, and the other horizontally.

After setting the targets in motion, Bruce systematically pierced each and every one of their centers, feeling the tension leave his body with every release of the bow's string. At first he tried for accuracy, but then he practiced precision, grouping the arrows in clusters on the canvases. Each satisfying 'thwack' served to calm him, as he mentally prepared for his meeting with Diana later that night.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures approaching. Ignoring them, he grabbed an arrow from his quiver, notched it on the string, and pulled back as far as he could. The high tension in the bow made his arm shake. He released the arrow and it whistled through the air, landing on the target, a little off of center.

"Slightly off the mark. You're slipping, Bruce."

He did not turn to look at the general, but simply strung another arrow on his bow. As he pulled the arrow back to his face, sizing up his next target, he asked, "Do you need something?" This time, he hit the center dead on.

"Diana will be practicing with you."

"I'm already finished." He gestured to the targets. "But if Diana would like, let her know she's free to use my practice range."

He finally looked over at the Princess to gauge her reaction. The entire conversation with Antiope had been conducted in English, but with the number of times they had spoken her name, Diana must have known she was the topic of discussion. He had been in her position when he had first started training with Antiope, and he knew how frustrating it was to be in the dark. Yet she just stood there, staring straight ahead. He looked down and saw her fists clenched at her sides. In her light armor and with her hair pulled back from her face in a high ponytail, he thought she looked like Artemis. All that was missing was her bow.

"It'll be tough to practice without a weapon."

"Diana didn't come here to shoot."

The general turned to the princess and said in Themysciran, "He is stubborn, and will not ask why I want you to practice together. We will need to give him a demonstration."

Without a word, Diana turned and walked away.

"May I borrow a bow and arrow?"

He handed the weapons to Antiope, pretending not to be curious. She notched an arrow and raised the bow, drawing the string as taut as possible. Without a word, the general released the projectile.

Time seemed to move slowly. Bruce watched in horror as the arrow hurtled towards Diana, who still hadn't turned around. He knew she was gifted, but her skin wasn't impenetrable. The paper cut she received back in his lab made that quite clear. If the arrow hit Diana, it would pass right through her.

Bruce was about to yell at her to duck when she turned around. There was no look of surprise on her face, only steely determination. She raised one of her wrists, and the sunlight glinted off of the bands of silver that encircled her bones. And then a loud crack shattered the silence that surrounded him. The arrow fell to the ground on either side of her, split in two.

Bruce was out of breath, and he still hadn't recovered, when Antiope notched two arrows at once and sent them flying. Once again, he saw Diana shatter the arrows in a flash of silver.

Seemingly satisfied that she had shown Bruce enough, Antiope said, "The Princess needs to work on sharpening her reflexes, and as you could use more practice with the bow, I thought I would, as your people say, kill two birds with one stone."

Antiope called out to Diana, who was still standing far away, "I'll be expecting you back in two hours." Then she turned and walked away.

Bruce watched Diana as she gazed at Antiope's retreating back. Her brow was mildly furrowed. No doubt she was not expecting to be left alone with him.

Knowing that he would have to start up the conversation, since he'd been so rude last time, Bruce walked towards her. She was standing next to his targets and he began to remove the arrows. "Does your aunt really expect you to listen to her?"

"Yes. Apart from my mother and myself, no one's authority is higher."

"But you're the princess. Why do you listen to her?"

"As a high-ranking official of Themyscira, she deserves my respect. And it pleases my mother." She stared at him defiantly, daring him to make a comment.

"Well, if we are going to do this, I don't want to lose all of my arrows. I have another weapon I'd like to use, one that won't shatter on impact."

"As you wish."

He let out a shrill whistle and within a minute, Philogea came into view. Instead of coming to him, the beast ran to Diana, much to Bruce's disbelief. She bent her head over the horse's nose, but he could still see the smug smile on her face. Unaware that he could understand Themysciran, Diana said, "It's alright, Philogea. Go to the odious one." Then she smiled sweetly at him and said in Greek, "Lead the way."

Bruce got onto his horse, and Diana flew behind as they made the way to his house. He got off of Philogea and walked towards his lab with Diana beside him, matching him stride for stride.

Unlike last time, she did not look around. Her eyes remained perfectly fixed on his face; she would not be the first to speak.

"Before we practice any more, I thought you should know I've reconsidered your offer."

She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. He should have known it would be difficult.

"In exchange for teaching you English, you will train with me."

Diana sat down on the couch, then replied, "That is unnecessary. I will train with you because it benefits the Amazons. Not you. Not myself. Is there anything else?"

Bruce inwardly gloated, knowing she would regret those words later on. "No. Wait here."

He walked the thirty feet to his house and found Alfred as quickly as possible. He was in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to some food. From the looks of it, it was dessert. More specifically, his birthday cake.

"Back so soon, Master Bruce?"

"Diana came with Antiope, and she is with me in the lab. I just came to let you know."

"Do not worry, sir. I will restrict myself to the kitchen." Bruce could detect a hint of humor in the butler's words.

"I'm also going to try out those new weapons I've been experimenting with."

"Let me know how that goes."

As Bruce turned to leave, Alfred handed him a package. Bruce stared at it as if it were a leprous toad instead of what he knew it really was: chocolate cake. "For you and the princess," the butler prompted.

"Alfred…"

"Best not to keep her waiting, sir."

Knowing it was a losing battle, Bruce grabbed the food and made his way to the armory, grabbing a pouch and filling it with as many of the metal weapons as he could. He was still trying to find a way of shaping them, so they would return to him when he threw them. Even though he hadn't achieved that yet, they would still work perfectly well as mere projectiles.

When he came back, he found the princess in the same position as he had left her, sitting on the divan with her hands folded in her lap. He sat down beside her.

Diana surprised him by actually speaking to him without any prompting. "The last time I saw you, you had been injured."

"I'm better now." Bruce sat there, the cake resting in his lap like a ticking time bomb.

She eyed it suspiciously as he gave it out to her. "What is it?" she asked.

"Chocolate cake."

She opened the napkin and stared down at it.

"You're supposed to eat it," he said, unsure if cake was a staple of the Amazon diet.

"I know that." She examined it a bit, before sticking her finger in the frosting and bringing it to her mouth. He watched her eyes widen slightly after she tasted it before he turned away.

The room felt as if it were closing in on him, and there wasn't enough space. Standing to his feet he said roughly, "You don't have to eat it all now."

Bruce looked back at her. Her disappointment was clear, but she didn't object. Setting the food aside, she stood up. "Alright. Where are we going?" she asked.

"Back to the shooting range." Back out into the open air, back where the breeze would carry her intoxicating scent far, far away from him.

Bruce placed the weapons in a saddle pouch, mounted his horse, and within minutes they had returned.

"So what exactly will you be throwing at me?"

Climbing off of Philogea, he dug through the sack and handed her one of the small, black instruments.

She turned it over in her hands, tracing a finger along its edges. "It looks like a bat."

It shouldn't have surprised him that she would know about the animals. He had not explored the rest of the island, and only knew about his small section. There must have been caves all over Themyscira.

She flung the weapon at a target about forty feet away, hitting it dead center.

Bruce was impressed. He had always struggled with throwing the objects accurately. He was pretty sure he knew what the flaw in its design was, but he didn't currently have a way of fixing it. He handed her another one as he said, "I've actually been working on these things for the past year. Ideally, if thrown properly, it should come straight back to you."

Diana tossed it again, giving it a curved trajectory, and sure enough, the tiny metal bat landed in the dirt about five feet to her left.

Walking over, she picked it up and examined it for a few seconds. The metal was like clay in her fingers. She bent it, giving it a more curved appearance. Flinging the projectile once more, this time it flew straight back to her hand.

"Would you like to try?" she asked. Bruce took the weapon she offered and grabbed a glove from his riding bag to protect his hand. Then he flung the object, giving it a wide arc. Just as with Diana, the little bat returned to him.

Taking it again, he hurled it at the same target the princess had earlier used. The bat landed right next to hers.

"Nice aim," she observed, giving him a polite smile.

"Thanks," he said gruffly. "For fixing it."

"I'm glad I could help. If you like, I could…" she made a twisting motion with her hands, the same she had made to bend the metal.

Bruce handed her the sack. In less than two minutes, she handed the bag back to him, now replete with twenty functioning weapons.

"So how does this work? I throw these things at you, and you just deflect them."

"I suppose so. Antiope wasn't very clear."

"No surprise there."

Diana said nothing, but flew about thirty feet away. "Is this far enough back?" she called out.

"For now."

Bruce launched the weapon at her, and it made a loud pinging sound as it glanced off her gauntlets. After about the third time, he said, "This is too easy. See if you can angle your wrists so that it comes back at me." He stepped closer, knowing it wouldn't work at such a great distance.

Her first attempt sent the metal bat somewhere to the side, embedding it in a tree. He watched as her lips pursed with disapproval. "Are you sure this is such a great idea?"

"You don't think you can do it?"

Diana's look of annoyance amused him. "Of course I can do it…It's just that, at the speed with which it returns, you might injure your hands."

He bent his head over the bag, ostensibly looking for another thing to throw, but really trying to hide his face. "Let me worry about that."

"If you say so." She didn't sound convinced, but when he threw another one at her, she aimed it back at him. It landed about three feet in front of him, skittering to a stop somewhere behind him.

On the next one, her aim was true. He knew it was too fast to catch without seriously tearing his hand apart, glove or not. Bruce jumped out of the way, launching another one at her simultaneously, hoping to throw her off guard. Diana didn't see it until it was almost too late. She managed to block it, but again, it bounced off into another luckless tree.

"Don't let yourself get distracted."

Diana nodded grudgingly.

"Let's see if you can do the same thing, moving in the air." He drew an 'X' in the dust with his foot. "Aim for that."

Effortlessly, she began to hover above the ground. "Are you going to aim for me, or am I supposed to fly to where you are throwing it?"

"Both." That way he could gauge her relative speed, and, if he made any mistakes in his shots, she would be none the wiser.

After about an hour of trying as many different variations as possible, Bruce called a stop to their lesson. She floated down beside him, without a hair out of place. He wasn't all that winded himself. With only twenty weapons to work with, they had to stop and gather the tiny bats quite a few times. Only now, there were sixteen. Four had either been lost or mangled beyond repair.

"I should be heading back soon. The general will be expecting me." She opened her mouth to say something else, but shut it.

"What?" he asked.

"It's nothing. I just…I left my cake back at your lab."

Seeing as how they were getting along decently, Bruce did not indulge in smiling. "I'll bring you more next time."

"And when will that be?"

"When are you available?"

"My schedule is pretty open, but nighttime would be best. And I must be back before sunrise."

"How about tomorrow night? At midnight?"

Diana nodded her head. "Yes, I'll be able to do that. But where shall I meet you? Your lab?"

"No. The training grounds."

"I'll see you then…Bruce."

It was the first time she had ever called him by his name. The Scottish moniker had never sounded as pleasant as it had when uttered in her lyrical Themysciran accent. Upbraiding himself for thinking such foolish thoughts, Bruce managed to say "Goodbye, Diana," before too much time had passed.

Bruce watched her fly away, relatively satisfied with how things had gone. Now if he could keep her at least twenty feet away and flying in the air, he'd probably escape unharmed. Probably.

Bruce let his head roll back in exasperation as he considered the likelihood of that happening.

He was in trouble.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

To the anonymous, but seldom forgotten:

d- I'm so sorry about not replying to your review in the Nice Guy. It totally slipped my mind, but I will rectify that when I post Nice Guy's third chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy the BMWW bonding. That's pretty much what is going to happen over the course of the next couple of chapters, and I'm going to show other people's view points on what is "developing" between those two. **:D **I'm also trying to use their bonding as a time to explain more things about the history of the Amazons and Themyscira itself. Thanks for the review!

Daxo - I'm glad you found Bruce's behavior in keeping with his character. I struggle with not having them fall instantly in love and getting married right then and there. **:D **But that wouldn't make for a very suspenseful or action-filled plot. I guess I'll have to find other ways of fulfilling my inner fangirl. Thanks for reviewing!

jlfan- I don't really have Athena getting upset with anything other than the defilement of her temple. And Zeus's. I could see maybe an argument about her not caring if anything happens to his temple. I did portray her at the beginning as being weary of the waste and also resigned that, though the Greeks would win the Trojan War, they would be eclipsed by Aeneas' Rome. That is all completely of my own imagining, but I could see that in keeping with the goddess of wisdom. She is aloof during all the pillage and plunder. It isn't until she sees Priam being murdered on Zeus's altar that she starts getting angry, and it isn't until she sees her own temple being similarly defiled that she gets stirred into action. The ancient Greeks (as portrayed in The Iliad and Odyssey) honored earthly personal glory above all else, and seeing as they made their gods in their own image, I don't find it a stretch to imagine anything that is a slight to Athena's glory (or any other god's) would go down very well with her. I also think the three events I mentioned (The Greeks defiling her altar at a previous time to get the Palladium, Priam's murder on Zeus's altar, and the rape of Cassandra in her temple, coupled with the knowledge of Rome's eventual supremacy) were enough, in my mind, to explain her switch in allegiance from the Greeks to the future Romans, which is important for my story. Thanks for the review!

To Everyone: Thanks for reading!

* * *


	11. Oversight

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks, Beta **Kipples**! Geez, I think this enclave must be ginormous. Does it have a swimming pool yet? Are those standard in a jedi-enclave? If not, you will be getting one of those and a jacuzi. And some of those fun water noodles to hit people with. And a water volleyball net. And the pool is really a wave pool. **:D **lol

Note: The moves Diana and Bruce are doing are actually from some Greek fighting style called Pankration (Thanks, **MGD**, for alerting me about this). I found these funny looking videos on the web and a Wikipedia article, which describe the moves and countermoves I have them performing.

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 10:**

**Oversight**

* * *

As soon as dinner was over, Diana excused herself and told Hippolyta she was going to sleep early. The princess wasn't tired, but she wanted some rest before meeting Bruce that night. She wasn't sure when she would return, and she had things to do in the morning.

Before she knew it, it was time to wake up. Grabbing a black hooded cloak from her closet, Diana draped it around her. On top of her bed lay a heavy sack, which she hung over her shoulder. Standing at her balcony, out of sight from passersby below, she waited until the coast was clear before flying to the other side of the island.

Once at the training grounds, Diana waited for Bruce to show up. She had arrived fifteen minutes early, and with nothing to do, she began to pace the grounds. Seeing the tree that bore the brunt of a lightning bolt during their last sparring session, Diana wandered over and knelt low, dropping her sack to the ground. Her fingers trailed over the charred trunk, and when she looked at them, they were covered with black ash. She was just rubbing her hands together to remove the soot, when a voice from behind startled her.

"Are you ready?" Bruce asked.

Why hadn't she heard him approaching?

"Always," she said, rising slowly. Slipping off her cloak, she set it gently on the grass. Then she turned to face him. He was standing about ten feet away from her. "Where do we begin?"

"What are your expectations?" he asked. Everything about him struck her as cold and formal. From the great distance he kept between them, to the black material that enfolded him. His gaze was calculating, matching perfectly the hardness of his voice. Diana suspected he would find any answer she gave to that question inadequate. From her previous interactions with him, she would never have classified him as an overly friendly person, but she thought they had parted under better terms yesterday.

"My expectations? Regarding what?" she finally asked.

"Regarding training with me."

"I want to know that when I beat you, it's because of my superior skill rather than my strength."

"_If_ that happens, it is going to take a long time. Are you prepared to wait?"

"I'm prepared to do whatever it takes." She took a step forward, then stopped. Remembering the sack, she went back and got it. "I brought you something." She held out the bag to him, offering a smile, which he did not return.

He made no move to take it from her. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out." Again, she thrust the bag towards him, and he finally took it from her.

When he opened the flap, she explained, "Yesterday, I found out from my mother that today is your birthday, so I had one of the metalworkers make a bunch of your weapons." Diana took one out of the bag and held it up for his inspection. "And I can assure you they were made properly."

His face was always so unreadable, but Diana sensed he did not appreciate her gesture. "Do you not like them?"

"They're fine."

Realizing that was the only response she was going to get, Diana wondered what he found so displeasing. _She_ had done nothing wrong. The old irritation began to rise up in her, but she forced it down. "I guess we should get started then."

Setting the bag down, Bruce said, "When we spar, don't use your powers unless I tell you to. Instead of developing good technique, you've used your abilities as a crutch."

How hard could fighting without powers be, Diana wondered. Bruce made it sound as if she would be a completely different warrior simply because she wouldn't be able to move as fast or dynamically as before.

"Alright," she readily agreed.

They moved to the combatant's circle. Unlike last time, they were both without armor. But that did not make Bruce look any less intimidating.

Dropping into their stances, Diana made the first advance. She raised her foot and leaned back, trying to align her body so as to deliver the maximum amount of force. Before the bottom of her foot could connect with his stomach, he had shifted to the outside of her. As her leg struck the air, he grabbed her behind the knee and lifted her leg, unbalancing her. Diana's arms flailed out to the side as she fell hard on her back.

Her chest stung as the air rushed out of her lungs. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself off of the ground and resumed her stance.

"You need to be faster," Bruce observed clinically. Diana nodded her head before trying again. This time he moved to her inside, grasping her ankle with one hand and the back of her knee with the other. The result was the same. She didn't get up as easily this time.

He extended a hand to help her up, but she didn't take it. Forcing herself up, she faced him again. "If you know you are about to get hit or fall, exhale as much air as you can. It makes it easier to recover when the wind is knocked out of you."

His little commentaries were getting on her nerves. "Right. Breathe out." The words came out through a clenched jaw.

As quickly as she could, Diana lunged down low, aiming for his legs, hoping to take him down. Bracing her shoulder against one of his knees and moving her head to the outside of his other thigh, she wrapped her fingers around his ankles. She was just about to lift him up and drive him into the ground, when his knee came up and tapped her gently on the face. Before she could do anything about his warning, she felt his arms around her waist. Bruce flipped her over, so that her back was pressed against his chest. Diana blinked, looking at a world that was now upside down. He let her hang there for a second, and when Diana knew he wasn't going to bring the move to its completion, she flipped back down. Bruce released his hold on her once her feet hit the ground.

Diana was torn between anger and disbelief. Had she relied on her powers so much that being without them rendered her utterly useless as a fighter? She wanted to be left alone to calm down, or punch him with all her strength, just to prove to him that she wasn't inept, but he started lecturing her. "If you are going to pull that move, you have to keep your head pressed against my outer thigh. Otherwise, I will just knee you in the face. Or flip you over my shoulders. Or both."

Her hands were on her hips, and she was still trying to catch her breath. He didn't seem winded at all. Diana reminded herself that he had been fighting without powers much longer than her, so she shouldn't be embarrassed, but the prick to her pride still smarted.

"We should stop with offensive maneuvers and work on something more basic."

"Such as?"

"Harnessing your emotions."

"Believe me, I'm keeping them as reigned in as I possibly can."

"Try harder. I shouldn't be able to read every feeling that is flitting across your face. And you telegraph every move you are going to make. Don't look at my stomach and legs before you attack them."

Diana glared over at Bruce. She knew he was right, but it didn't make her failure any more palatable. It was embarrassing, having him scold her on things she should have mastered years ago. Why hadn't anyone said anything to her about this before? Diana's mortification was nearly complete. She had told him she would be the best sparring partner on the island. She had told him she would be a new challenge. She had told--

"I think we should stop."

"What?! _No_. I can keep going."

"You're not in the right frame of mind. It wouldn't be worth my time. Besides, I have other things to go over with you."

"Oh." She watched as he walked over to the grass around the ring. He had a bag with him as well. Bruce looked over at her expectantly, and she realized she was supposed to follow him.

When she reached him, he handed her a book. Looking down at the cover, she got angry. "I can't understand this. You know that."

"I'm going to teach you."

"I told you that wasn't necessary."

"Look, Diana, I have my reasons. Part of it is because I'm sick of seeing Antiope use your ignorance against you. Most of it really, but I also know this is what you want."

She opened her mouth to argue, but what was the point? She was dying to learn, and had only refused his offer so she wouldn't be indebted to him. Still, there were reasons why the knowledge of Man's World was forbidden on Themyscira. Was it right to break the law of her people to merely sate her curiosity?

Her internal debate was interrupted by Bruce. "Besides, when you learn what Antiope is saying about you to me, it will give you another opportunity to learn to hide your emotions," he added with a smirk.

"I understand the necessity of keeping myself in check in the practice ring, but I don't see why it is so important all the time. I have never believed showing one's emotions is wrong." Diana felt her eyes begin to narrow and gave into the reaction, just to prove her point.

"It's wrong when you let them control you."

"And if I don't, what is wrong with them then?"

"People use them against you, just like any other weapon. It is better to present a blank face, so they don't know how they've affected or hurt you. Because if they find out what drives you, they will use it to punish you."

"I have never experienced that in my life."

"Lucky you. That doesn't mean others haven't. Or that you won't."

"Is that what happened to you? ...In Man's World?" Diana looked up from the book she had been staring at since she took it from him. Their eyes met, but he didn't look away as he dispassionately stated, "Yes."

She was tempted to ask if it had happened in Themyscira, but she didn't want to know the answer. It wasn't something she needed to know anyway. It seemed wrong to force such information out of him. In order to change the subject, Diana asked, "Alright, Bruce, what do you want to teach me?"

She sat down in the grass and waited for him to join her, but he remained standing.

"What is it now?" Diana asked.

"It's one in the morning. And it isn't even a full moon."

Slightly confused, Diana raised her eyebrows as she asked, "And?"

"Not all of us can read in the dark."

"Would you like me to start a fire?" The offer was benign enough, though she was certain he could hear the condescension in her voice. As with all things, she noticed, Bruce ignored it.

"Not here. We should go further into the woods."

He brought his fingers to his lips, but Diana placed her hand on his arm. "You don't need to call for your horse. I can take you there myself. Just give me a second."

Diana retrieved her cloak and put it on before flying back to Bruce. He was carrying the two bags in his arms, holding them in front of his chest like a shield. "I'm going on horseback," he stated firmly.

Having grown tired of him dictating everything, Diana wanted to take charge. "That's ridiculous. I can carry you myself." Before he could argue with her, she had scooped him up in her arms. When he glared at her, she couldn't keep from smiling. After the humiliations she had experienced at his hands earlier that night, it was nice to be on the other side. Diana couldn't resist, "See. Light as a feather." Typically, he made no response.

After flying around slowly for a few minutes, Bruce pointed to a spot, and Diana set them down. She could tell he had used the place before, as there were the remnants of old fires in a pit that lay at the center of the opening in the trees.

"Come here often?"

He didn't answer her, but was digging around in his bag. She recognized the flint and steel he had brought out before he struck them together, causing sparks to fly into the tinder lining the pit. A small flame arose, and Diana sat down close to the fire. Digging around in the bag again, he handed her the book, this time with something on top of it.

Freeing the item from its wrapping, Diana smiled when she saw a large, slightly smashed piece of chocolate cake. She just remembered to say "Thank you," before taking a big bite.

Whatever this thing was—this thing he called chocolate—she had never experienced it before. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensations in her mouth. Once she had swallowed, she opened her eyes and sighed, "This is divine. How do you make it?"

Her question seemed to catch him off guard, because he shook his head slightly before answering. "What? The cake?"

"No. The chocolate."

"That's not chocolate. It's chocolate flavored cake. And frosting."

"Is that the stuff on the top?" Diana dipped her finger into the brown cream that covered the spongy food, remembering how delicious it had tasted yesterday, as she brought the chocolate-covered digit to her mouth.

"Yes. We should probably get started on this. I imagine you will want to get back and sleep soon."

"Hmmm?" Diana had temporarily forgotten about her companion. She looked over at Bruce, only to find him studiously pouring over the pages of his book. "Do you want some?"

She offered the food up to him, but he harshly said, "No." He belatedly added, "I had some earlier."

"I thought I smelled it on you when I was carrying you."

Bruce cleared his throat before asking, "Are you finished yet?'

"Almost." Four blissful minutes later, Diana swallowed her last piece of cake. Turning back to her teacher, she said, "I'm ready."

"First, we should go over greetings and asking basic questions."

"Alright."

Bruce said the words and their meanings to her, meanwhile showing their spellings in the book. The meanings themselves were easy enough to remember, but she had trouble pronouncing the words that went with them. Diana had him repeat the phrases over and over again, closely studying the shape his mouth made as the foreign sounds passed over his lips. It was odd hearing him speak Greek perfectly, then switch over to another accent (American, he had said it was) when he spoke his language. The difference in sounds pleased her, but try as she might, she could not precisely emulate them. Diana even had him say his name multiple times, but her accent was distinct every time she repeated "Bruce" back to him.

"I promise the next time I see you, I will pronounce your name correctly. And the other words too."

"Right now just understanding the meanings is what's most important. Working on the accent will come later."

Since Diana picked up the words quickly, they moved on to commonly used verbs, and from there, he taught her to make very simple sentences.

The lessons were so absorbing, Diana gave little thought to her personal comfort. But when her legs started tingling underneath, she knew it was time to stretch. Diana lay back on the ground, staring idly up at the night sky, her legs released from their former position. As they continued trading English phrases and sentences back and forth, Diana absentmindedly began picking out the different constellations in her mind. After some time, it dawned on her that Ursa Major had moved too far. Sitting up abruptly, DIana realized it was nearly fifteen minutes till three.

Bruce looked over at her and closed the book.

She got to her feet, her cloak falling about her ankles. "I should be heading home. Do you want me to take you back to your place?"

"No. I'll walk."

"Alright. When will I see you again?"

"My next practice with the Amazons. Then you can see how you deal with the change in your sleeping schedule."

Diana nodded her head. "I'll see you in two days then. And Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday, and thank you for the chocolate cake."

Diana pulled her hood over her head and rose into the sky, quickly covering ground. She approached the palace from the backside of the mountain on which it rested, keeping to the shadows of the courtyard. Seeing that she was alone, she flew into her window, got ready for bed, and fell asleep, reciting the new words she had learned from Bruce.

* * *

As was his ritual, Alfred sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea while he waited Bruce's return.

It was almost three in the morning when the young man finally returned. Uncharacteristically, Alfred heard him enter the room. Setting down his reading material, the butler looked over at Bruce.

"From your churlish expression, I can only assume that things went well with the princess?"

Refusing to acknowledge Alfred's query, Bruce dropped two bags on top of the table, causing the teacup to rattle. Then he busied himself with getting water and making a sandwich.

"Did she like the cake, Master Bruce?"

"She loved it," he said, somewhat acidly.

"I will have to send more with you next time."

"_That_ will not be necessary."

Silence descended in the kitchen as Bruce savagely tore at his sandwich. Alfred hid his smile behind his tea cup, taking another sip.

"So, how did the training session go? Did you learn anything useful?"

Alfred had chosen the last question carefully. From Bruce's glare, it was obvious he had learned something, most likely related to his feelings for the princess. It was also obvious he did not find that particular kind of information of any value.

"I see. Well, I'm sure it was beneficial for the princess, in any case."

Bruce grunted before quickly polishing off the rest of his sandwich. Seeing that his ward was much more collected, Alfred tried questioning him again.

"When will you be seeing her next, sir?"

"Two days."

Interesting. When Bruce set his mind on something, he pursued it doggedly. A two day respite seemed out of character.

"If you don't mind me asking, Master Bruce, why the delay?'

"It will give her time to adjust."

"To what?"

"To learning that she has a long way to go. She's lacks self-control and discipline, and I think our sparring was a rude awakening for her."

Alfred refused to indulge in an eye roll, knowing it was beneath him. "I certainly hope you broke the news with a bit more civility, though I'm not holding my breath. I know how _charming_ you can be."

Bruce shrugged. "I think she figured it out herself by the second time I threw her to the ground."

"Lovely, sir."

Alfred saw it was now Bruce who was hiding his smiles. "She's an Amazon. I'm sure she's been thrown down plenty of times."

"And did you spend the whole time, as you call it, 'throwing her to the ground?'"

There was a short pause, and Alfred was fairly certain a faint blush was staining Bruce's cheeks. "No. It didn't even last ten minutes."

"And yet you were gone for nearly four hours."

"It takes time to get there and back. Most of the time was spent teaching her English."

Alfred raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "That's very kind of you, Master Bruce."

"Kind has nothing to do with it. It makes sense for her to learn the language."

"But you could just as easily communicate in Greek."

"It's better this way." Alfred did not see why, and Bruce did not seem up to explaining his reasoning.

"So, you spar and then practice English?"

"For now. Next time, I will be working with her with the rest of the Amazons, so it will be different. I doubt she wants them knowing about her extra-curricular learning."

Another interesting development. Bruce had never been the most open of people, so the butler had a lot of practice reading between the lines, and he was beginning to see a pattern. Why would Bruce spend most of his time teaching English to a warrior he could already communicate with, especially when his sole intention in working with her was to sharpen his _fighting_ skills? Further, why would the young man subject himself to the supervision of Amazons, whose presence he considered a hindrance to his progress? Clearly, he did not trust himself sparring with Diana alone.

Bruce was certainly not the normal red-blooded twenty-one year old male, and Alfred admired the skill and secrecy Bruce put into his efforts to keep the princess at bay, though he thought them a bit ridiculous. However, rather than ruin Bruce's attempts at concealment, Alfred kept the happy information to himself. It couldn't hurt to let the boy think Alfred was unaware of what he was doing.

"Anything else, Alfred?" Bruce stood, indicating there was nothing left for discussion. Alfred nearly smiled at the false courtesy.

"No, sir. Good evening."

"Good night."

When he was certain Bruce was gone, Alfred resumed his perusal of the Gotham Gazette. The mug shot of Joe Chill stared back at him, underneath the headline, "Suspected Wayne Murderer Arrested." Reading the article further, Alfred learned that the desperate man had been involved in a bank robbery, and it was for that crime that he was arrested. Due to Chill's long list of run-ins with the law, he was facing a rather lengthy jail stay. It seemed the attorney was content for now to lock Chill up on the lesser charges, while he presumably gathered more evidence in the murder case.

As Alfred continued drinking his tea, he wondered if he should report the change in events to Bruce. Mulling it over, Alfred slowly came to the conclusion that he would keep silent. It was not as if Bruce and he were leaving any time soon. And with Chill guaranteed a few years in jail, he wouldn't be running anywhere either. Besides, Bruce regularly checked the papers himself. If he wanted to know, he would eventually find out. And if Bruce didn't check, Alfred would learn Bruce was more concerned with what was going on with his life in Themyscira. As that was the older man's hope for his ward, he did not want to do anything to upset the tenuous and volatile relationship Bruce had struck with the Amazon Princess.

But even with all these reasons, Alfred felt slightly guilty about hiding this from Bruce.

After washing and putting away his teacup, Alfred left the kitchen for his bedroom, newspaper tucked snugly under his arm.

* * *

Two days later Bruce woke with a groan.

Lying on his stomach, face smashed into his pillow, he refused to move. Opening one eye, Bruce gazed at the clock on his wall. On the depiction of the beach, four and three quarters of the twenty-four sea shells dotting the sand were illuminated, emitting a pearly glow. He still had almost two hours before he needed to be at the training grounds.

Bruce rolled off his bed, quickly pulling on some clothes and sandals. He stepped outside of his room, walked through the hallway and out into the courtyard. It was still dark outside, but the fireflies buzzing about and the moon and stars overhead provided enough light for Bruce to navigate the gardens without stumbling over some plant.

Deciding a morning run was in order, Bruce exited the courtyard, taking off at a sprint. His body quickly fell into the repetitious rhythm of running. The thoughtless motions allowed Bruce to concentrate his mental efforts on preparing for what was ahead.

He knew interacting with Diana was going to be hard, but he had underestimated just how difficult it would be. The revelation irritated him immensely. It wasn't that Bruce was a stranger to strong emotions. He routinely dealt with fear, rage, and hatred. However, he was unfamiliar with positive emotions. It had been years since he had dealt with anything like that. As a person who valued control, Bruce despised the very nature of feelings, because they were something he could not bend to his will. Unlike actions or thoughts, they couldn't simply be stopped by sheer will power. They would continue to plague him, and all he could do was ignore them or put himself in situations where they did not arise as often. At least he had control over that.

Bruce wasn't about to give up; he just needed to adjust his strategies. He couldn't stop interacting with the princess, but he could control the kinds of interactions they had. Involving the study of the English language in their sessions had been a stroke of genius. He had not been lying when he said he did it to spite Antiope. The general was manipulative, using Diana's ignorance of the language to make her feel stupid and inadequate. He knew this, because she had used those same tactics on him.

But there were other advantages to this arrangement. Any time he needed a break from the physical closeness that sparring with Diana demanded, he could pull out the book, and they could work on her studies. It gave him the chance to cool down and engage himself in a purely mental exercise. Bruce assumed that, at the beginning, most of their sessions would center on language lessons, until he adjusted and became immune to her. Thankfully he could use the princess's emotional nature as his excuse.

Bruce had gone into that midnight meeting knowing his weaknesses. When sparring with her was too much, he suggested English lessons. When she was falling in love with her slice of cake, he vigorously leafed through the pages of the book, going over what he should teach her first. And when she stared so intently at his mouth as he spoke his native tongue, repeating the words back to him in her lovely accent, Bruce forced himself to focus on all the mistakes she made in her pronunciations.

Unfortunately, there were some things he hadn't been able to prepare for, simply because he did not know enough about her. He had not anticipated the birthday gift. Or the quickness with which she picked up his language and the excitement it clearly brought her.

The only solution he could come up with for that, for the time being, was to give himself more space. He fully intended on practicing more with her, just not yet. For now, it seemed safest to train with her less often and under the watchful gaze of the Amazons (which now included her mother, who had taken to coming to some of his practices). Just having them there would alter his mood, putting him on guard even more.

As he continued running his circuit, he carefully constructed the walls he needed to keep her out. When he arrived back at the house, he had fifteen minutes before he needed to meet them. After taking a quick bath, he dressed, this time making sure he wore armor. He and Philogea arrived with five minutes to spare.

All the Amazons were already there. Antiope and Hippolyta were speaking to each other, while Diana stood alone, staring at the ground in contemplation. Only two other Amazons were there besides them, the others deciding to sit this session out.

Diana was the first to notice he had arrived, but it was the queen who addressed him. "Good morning, Bruce. My daughter, Diana, will be joining you today, and you will most likely be seeing her at all your training sessions from now on. I hope you do not mind the intrusion. I think you would gain from fighting with her, as she would from you."

He knew the queen was even less aware than Antiope that he and Diana were already meeting each other outside of these official practices. And now, from looking at Diana, he understood how she felt about keeping her mother in the dark. There was a slight flush on the princess's face, and she would not meet his eyes. She felt guilty.

"That's fine," he replied.

"Good." The queen turned to her daughter, "I would like to see you spar with each other, if you don't mind."

Bruce nodded his head once, while Diana said, "Yes, my queen."

They stood across from each other, both of them waiting for the signal to begin. Diana's eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply through her nose. The blue orbs flashed open just before Antiope called for them to engage.

This time the princess did not rush at him. She held back, as they both circled each other, looking for an entrance. Bruce found it first and tried putting her in a hold. They struggled for a couple of seconds before she broke free of him, and they were back to their former positions. This happened a few more times before Diana lunged for his legs.

Like the last time, she did not guard her face. Unlike last time, however, Bruce did not give her a gentle warning tap with his knee. Instead, he made sure she felt the full force of the blow. Steeling himself against the groan of pain she emitted, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the ground and flung her over his shoulder.

He turned around, dropping back into a fighting stance lest she surprise him. But that was the last thing she was going to do. Diana tried rising from the ground. One arm was propping herself up, while the other was catching the blood that was dripping from her nose and mouth. She stared down at the red fluid in disbelief.

Bruce walked over to her and held out his hand to help her up, but before she could respond to the gesture, he was knocked to the ground from behind. He looked up at Hippolyta, whose eyes were frantic in their terror and rage. Gazing past her, Bruce noticed that the rest of the Amazons were looking at him, shocked expressions covering their faces.

"Mother, stop." Diana quickly pushed herself off the ground, wiping the blood from her face with her arm. "It's my fault."

Hippolyta backed away, but she started speaking harshly to the princess in Themysciran. "Why did you let him do that to you? You could have stopped him. Easily."

Diana looked over at Bruce for a second. She wasn't aware he had understood her mother, and he gave no her no reason to think otherwise. He slowly stood to his feet, as Diana quietly answered back in her native tongue, "I don't want to win just because of my powers."

Standing there dumbly, Bruce listened to their conversation.

"What does that matter? They are what set you apart from the other warriors."

"No. I have used them as an excuse to become lazy. If I had mastered proper technique, rather than relied on them to overpower my opponents, this would not have happened. Why did you step in? If it were any of the other Amazons, you would have lectured me for doing the move wrong and letting down my guard."

"The other Amazons aren't my daughter."

Bruce could sense Diana's unhappiness. She sighed, her eyes and words pleading with her mother, "How am I supposed to learn if you keep trying to protect me? I should already know how to fight properly...Why did you never correct me?"

"I did not think it necessary. There is no one here who comes close to your powers and abilities."

"But what happens if I leave Themyscira? Or someone comes here that is more powerful than me?"

Hippolyta looked at her daughter sharply and suspiciously. "What makes you say that?"

"Nothing." Bruce could tell she was lying, and he was certain Hippolyta knew she was too. Diana was a terrible liar.

"Do you want me to let him beat you to a pulp?"

"If that's what it takes, yes."

Hippolyta laughed harshly. "Are you even listening to what you are saying? You have no idea what you are asking for. Do you know what it feels like to be helpless at the hands of another?"

"I am not helpless. He will not hurt me."

"How can you possibly say that? Don't be foolish, Diana. You do not know him or what he is capable of."

"None of that is relevant. I can protect myself from _him_. I choose not to use my powers. If I ever felt he was truly a threat, there would be nothing to keep me from taking him down. I can handle him."

Diana's assessment of Bruce did not sit well with him. Even though he knew she was capable of tearing him to pieces, and it was stupid for him to nurse his wounded pride, he still felt affronted. His face, however, remained as blank as ever. It was then that Bruce looked over at the other Amazons. Antiope was gazing at him with a smirk on her face. He refused to indulge in an outward show of emotion or recognition, silently comforting himself with promises of proving Diana wrong, just as he had the other Amazons.

Hippolyta stood there for a few moments, trying to regain her composure. Well, at least she saw him as a threat to her daughter. When the queen spoke again, Bruce knew Antiope was no longer paying him any attention.

"There are other ways of disabling an opponent than physically besting them."

"Exactly. So why won't you let me learn how to defend myself in those ways?!" Diana was now remonstrating with her hands and a raised voice, none of which Hippolyta appreciated. "What would the Ama-" the queen lowered her voice to an angry hiss, "what would they think if they saw their princess being beaten by a mere mortal? By a man?!"

Bruce watched as Diana raised her chin regally, looking every inch a goddess burning with righteous indignation. "I do not care what they think," she icily replied. "They have fought against him for years, and they cannot beat him. I will accomplish what they cannot, and I will do it on my terms. If they cannot handle seeing their princess fall, perhaps they should not attend my practices."

"I understand you feel the need to prove yourself, but you don't."

"What happens if I ever come against someone who is more powerful than me? Or if for some reason my powers are taken away? You know that is a possibility."

"I will never allow such a thing to happen."

Unconvinced, Diana replied, "I need to know how to beat my opponents without having to rely only on my strength and speed."

"No you don't."

Diana shook her head. "Yes, I do."

The two women glared at each other, but Hippolyta's face soon softened with a smile. Shaking her head, the queen said in an exasperated voice, "Oh, Diana. You are so stubborn, you realize that?"

"No."

The queen looked over at Bruce, though she was no longer smiling. In Greek Hippolyta said, "I apologize for overreacting. It will not happen again."

Bruce doubted that, but at least for the rest of their session, Hippolyta managed to remain only a spectator, even after Diana hit the deck repeated times. The other Amazons did not see it, because Hippolyta made them leave before they started sparring again.

After about two hours of this, Hippolyta called an end to the session.

"Still thinking that my interference was ridiculous?" the queen asked.

Diana smiled tiredly back at her mother. "Yes."

Bruce watched the interchange, inwardly amused. Diana looked a mess. Her clothes were torn in various places, occasionally spotted with blood. And her hair, which had been braided, was falling out of its elegant coif. Bruises, scratches, and all sorts of other markings covered her alabaster skin. It was twisted, but he took pride in knowing that they were of his infliction. He had not escaped unharmed either. She had gotten in a few good strikes too. If he looked down at himself, Bruce was certain he would see some nasty bruises.

Both ladies turned to him, and he noticed that their smiles had disappeared.

Diana pushed her hair out of her face and looked over at Bruce. He would not allow himself to show it, but he respected her much more than when they had begun their session. Diana received everything he dished out with little more than a grunt, before she was back on her feet again. The princess was resilient and had a very high tolerance for pain.

"I think that is enough for today," the queen said. "You did remarkably well, Bruce. And, Diana, your skills are steadily improving. We will see you next week."

The queen turned, and Bruce saw Diana hesitate. Their eyes met, and he knew she was wondering when they would see each other alone. Under the circumstances, he did not think it would be best to meet with her without supervision. He still was not ready for it. In light of that, he made no signal to her. Confused, Diana waited a second more before turning around and following her mother.

Bruce watched them walk away until they were out of sight.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

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d!- Glad you are enjoying the story. I hope that continues. I don't know if this chapter qualifies for BMWW fluff. I was trying to be a bit subtle, lol. I'm about as subtle as neon pink spandex, but whatever. I try. I sent more Alfred/Bruce interactions your way. I'm starting to feel sorry for Bruce. Poor guy, he can't seem to catch a break from anyone. **:D** Thanks for reviewing! & Thanks for the correction. I fixed the mistake.

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Hopefully everyone isn't getting sick of all the veiled "Bruce is so attracted to Diana" references. I don't think he actually likes her yet (as I believe it's totally possible to find someone physically attractive, but repulsive as a person--not that Bruce thinks she is repulsive), but it's coming. I'm not trying to hit people over the head with it, but I wanted to portray it as something he is constantly struggling against. And Diana is not even aware of it, which makes it hilarious to me. Poor Bruce.

Thanks for reading, everybody! Have a wonderful weekend!


	12. Cave

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Thanks, as always, to the betalicious Kipling Nori. Today's enclave addition: Sylar. Have you ever seen those things called Wallbangers and Fatheads? Those huge pictures of your favorite sports stars or whatever. Well, I'm getting you eleven of them of ZQ. You can place them all over your enclave.

I am sooooo behind on replying to reviews, and I apologize. I will try to get to them later tonight, after the Phillies hopefully beat the Rays. =D Anyway, for those who have reviewed and have not received a reply, I'm really sorry. I will reply, and I really do appreciate all the kind and constructive things that have been said to me.

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**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 11:**

**Cave**

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As the weeks passed, Bruce continued to avoid meeting with Diana alone. He had no excuse other than weakness keeping him away, but he refused to put himself in any kind of situation where he would lose control. Instead, he buried himself in training. With every form he practiced and executed perfectly, Bruce sought confirmation that he truly was master of himself, but deep down he knew he was being a coward. This knowledge brought him little satisfaction, and he redoubled his efforts, punishing himself mercilessly.

In the middle of one of his marathon work-outs, it occurred to him that he and Alfred had not spoken about the goings on in Gotham for a while. Normally, Bruce would have been up to date on his hometown's current events, but he had been so distracted with avoiding Diana and focused on correcting himself that the city had faded into the background. Seeking to amend that, he curtailed his practice and made his way back to his house.

The closer he approached, Bruce felt his stomach tighten. It had been over a month since he had thought about Chill. Temporarily setting aside the implications of such an outrageous bout of forgetfulness, Bruce worried something had happened to Chill to prevent him from exacting revenge on the criminal. Perhaps that was why Bruce took a detour to the shower, rather than going straight to the library.

Sufficiently scrubbed down, Bruce made his way to Athena's room. The area was large and open, with a few couches pushed against the walls. Most of the walls were covered with elaborate tapestries, each depicting episodes in the goddess's life. Emerging from Zeus' head, battle-ready. Grieving the loss of her friend Pallas, who had died at her hands. Bestowing gifts on the first woman, Pandora. Giving the olive tree to the people of Athens. Transforming the defeated Arachne into a spider. Showing mercy on Orestes after he had slain his unfaithful and treacherous mother. Turning the beautiful Medusa into a snake-haired Gorgon. Bruce would have doubted the veracity of the myths had he not seen the goddess in the flesh, albeit disguised as the wrinkly, old woman.

In the middle of the room was a large Ionic column. The pillar of marble was crowned with what looked like an unfurled scroll—what Bruce had learned was called its capital. The surface of the capital was aflame. The origin of the fire was unknown, but it burned perpetually, providing enough light by which to read. It was the room's only source of illumination, though the space was well lit; no doubt the result of magic. On the column's base was a burnished plaque on which was inscribed Athena _Phronesis_. The pillar was surrounded by large cushions in a rainbow of colors, inviting the reader to recline upon them as they read.

The library was not of the kind Bruce was accustomed to as a child; the Amazons stored their information on scrolls and manuscripts, rather than in book format. Growing up, he had seen a display of ancient cultures at The Gotham Museum of Art. Due to that experience, he always imagined that all scrolls would be worn with age. When he had first arrived on Themyscira, he had unrolled one of the scrolls with the utmost care, fearful of causing damage, but when he had opened it, the parchment looked new, as if it had been written days ago. Either there was some kind of magic preserving them, or the Amazons kept their older historical artifacts in the city. Bruce knew that the ancient Greeks had stored their traditions orally, so he was uncertain how much of the Amazons' history was even written down. From the texts he had read, he had managed to learn a little about the Amazons' history. It wasn't pleasant.

Initially, because the Amazons had suffered like him, he had wished to learn more about their past, but given the strained relationship he had with his instructors, he had never felt comfortable asking. Eventually, he had ceased to care. But his interactions with Diana had stirred the old curiosity. How much were they the Amazons a product of their past? Perhaps that was why Diana was so different. She had never been touched by pain.

Bruce's favorite part of the library was nondescript. The old block of stone sat off to the side, completely unadorned. It was here that books and other resources were magically produced. One merely had to think of some topic or informational item while kneeling before it, and the resource would appear. The materials Alfred and Bruce conjured were generally kept in their rooms, where they had created bookshelves to house the cherished knowledge. Or if they were no longer needed, they were returned to the stone, where they would evanesce to someplace only known to Athena.

Bruce approached the stone, but hesitated to kneel. He knew the action was supposed to be symbolic, and part of him rebelled against the outward display of homage he was forced to pay to the goddess who had deserted him. He could not acknowledge the wisdom of his and Alfred's exile from the real world, nor could he thank Athena for it. However, today the bitterness was forgotten in his sense of impending doom.

Unable to put it off any longer, Bruce genuflected before the stone altar, bracing his hands against the unrelenting rock. As soon as he thought it, the pages of the Gotham Gazette appeared.

Bruce looked down at the paper. His trepidation had been justified. _Chill Robbery Trial Begins_ read the headline. Snatching the periodical, Bruce poured over the article, a wave of panic threatening to overtake him. Breathing in slowly, he reasoned this wasn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, but he could not calm himself. Needing someone to talk to, he rushed over to Hestia's room. Without knocking, Bruce barged into Alfred's living quarters. The unflappable butler looked up at him, undisturbed by the sudden entrance. At first there was a question in the older man's eyes, but it disappeared when he saw the paper in Bruce's hand.

"I see you have discovered about Mr. Chill."

Alfred's voice broke through the fog of Bruce's mind. It slowly dawned on the young man that Alfred didn't seem surprised in the least. In anger, Bruce thrust the paper toward his guardian. "You knew?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

At first, Alfred said nothing. Taking the paper from Bruce's hand, the butler stared down at the words before calmly folding the Gazette and tucking it under his arm.

"I knew Mr. Chill had been arrested over three weeks ago. Though my reasoning may seem inadequate to you, I kept this from you in the hopes that you would be able to focus on your relationship with Miss Diana."

At first, Bruce's eyes widened in disbelief, but as the implication of Alfred's words achieved their full impact, the blue orbs hardened, glinting dangerously. "My _relationship_? There is no relationship!" he practically shouted, his vaunted self-control all but evaporated. Wanting to destroy something, Bruce clenched his trembling fingers into fists, while he glared furiously at Alfred.

The butler met his gaze. There was no fear in the Englishman's face, only pity. Bruce could not stand the sight, so he looked away.

Of all the people in the world, Bruce never suspected Alfred would betray him. Slowly, the rage deserted him, replaced by a hollow feeling of disappointment and loneliness.

Bruce struggled to voice the words, and they came out hoarse and haltingly. "How could you do this? You know how important this is to me."

"Yes, sir," the butler admitted, but he did not seem apologetic in the least.

Turning his back on Alfred, Bruce planted his feet on the ground, bracing himself against a fall. He registered Alfred was speaking to him, but he could comprehend nothing. His mind was in tatters. Struggling to come to grips with his world, Bruce stood perfectly still, forcing himself to listen. By then Alfred had stopped speaking.

A gentle touch on his arm startled Bruce out of his stupor. He felt so tempted to throw off Alfred's arm, but he allowed himself to be guided over to a sofa. Once he was seated, Alfred joined him, his body turned so they were facing each other. Bruce could not escape the look of concern in the butler's tired blue eyes.

"May I explain myself, Master Bruce?"

Bruce gave no reply. After a moment's pause, Alfred continued.

"I reasoned that, because there is nothing you can do about this matter, that it was unnecessary to inform you of the recent developments. In fact, sir, Mr. Chill's incarceration is most advantageous. He is under the watchful eyes of the authorities and is unable to flee Gotham. If convicted, and there is a very strong possibility that will happen, he will be locked up. And given his criminal record, for at least five years. Mr. Chill will still be there, if you ever leave Themyscira, which is by no means guaranteed. It did not make sense to trouble you."

"That is for _me_ to decide. _Not you_."

"Sir, you must consider you may never leave here. For the past ten years, your life has been one of obsession, focused solely on a criminal. What will you do if you never leave? Or if you do leave, what if you are unable to carry out your plans? Or, God forbid, if you do murder that miscreant, what will you do with yourself afterwards? Have you given any thought to that?"

Bruce folded his arms across his chest, but that was his only response. He didn't really have an answer; he hadn't allowed himself to think about his future. He didn't deserve, nor could he afford, that luxury. Not until he had avenged his parents.

"Master Bruce, I want you to have a future; you are putting your life on hold because of a murderer. It is not right that he should continue to control you after all these years. You have wasted all your resources, all your time and self on a human being who isn't even worthy of your notice."

Bruce shook his head in amazement. How could Alfred not understand? "_This_ gives me purpose. I need this."

"Your interactions with the princess have given you new vigor. You may not have realized this, or, as I imagine, you have and you choose to ignore it. I have teased you about liking her, but I am in earnest when I say a friendship with her would do you good. Your life has become too narrow, so narrow it's inhuman. This was not the future your parents envisioned for you. You have the potential to be so much more than an instrument of destruction. And there is nothing that keeps you from enjoying this new experience with the princess except yourself. I did not want you to use Mr. Chill's incarceration as an excuse."

"I trusted you, Alfred."

The butler let out a tired sigh. "I know, Master Bruce, and I hope that will continue. I'm sorry I hurt you; it was not my intention. But there will come a time when vengeance will not dominate your life, and I fear that you will not know how to live it…In the future, I will leave the Gazette at your door every morning."

"That won't be necessary. I'll get it myself."

And with that, Bruce stalked out of the room.

His first and only destination was the cave. Feeling utterly alone, he called Philogea to him. The horse gently nudged him in the chest, and Bruce reflexively reached up to her mane. With shaky hands, Bruce stroked the noble beast's ears and face, earning an appreciative whinny from his steed. Philogea again prodded Bruce with her muzzle, pushing him into action. He mounted the horse, and they set off at a slow trot to the waterfall.

Once they arrived, Bruce jumped down and plunged into the water. As he swam toward the entrance, he looked over his shoulder. Philogea had not moved, no doubt awaiting his eventual return. Knowing that would not be for some time, Bruce dismissed her.

Moving adeptly in the darkness over paths he had long ago memorized, Bruce reached a small alcove in the rock. Retrieving the lantern he kept there, he lit it, and made his way further into the cave.

Finding his familiar spot, Bruce sat on the ground and closed his eyes. The events of the past day loomed over him. Blessed (perhaps cursed) with a photographic memory, Bruce not only relived his thoughts; they were accompanied with vivid images. He allowed the pictures to run riot for a few minutes, giving in to the sensations that accompanied them. But then it was time to bring back order.

Compartmentalizing himself required organized systems. It demanded cool analysis, the ability to classify his memories and emotions properly. Indeed, being able to define the emotion was to step outside it, to come out from under its power. His feelings in regard to his parents were the easiest thing to put into perspective. Nothing had changed; he still owed them his life, love, and loyalty. Those were things that didn't need scrutiny, and they were realities he accepted without question. Joe Chill's incarceration would never change that.

Joe Chill, however, was another issue altogether, because he was connected with Alfred. And the questions Alfred raised went straight to the core of Bruce's beliefs. There were assumptions that he was so strongly committed to, he had never really examined them. Like all bases for belief, they seemed self-evident. He had chosen long ago that though he believed good existed, it was powerless in the face of death. He had not always thought that way; indeed, before his parents were murdered, he had never thought about these kinds of things at all. But that experience in Crime Alley had the effect of turning him into a philosopher at a very young age. He was asking questions that he was ill-equipped to answer, but he had chosen what had seemed true to him at the time. And, since then, the only instance he had ever doubted his choices occurred those first months on Themyscira, when he had left all questions behind and followed the desires of his heart. It wasn't that his basic tenets had been logically defeated. It was that he did not want to listen to them. Rather than answering the pressing questions, he had brushed them aside while he reveled in the joy Themyscira had temporarily brought him.

Since that illusion had been shattered, he and Alfred had conducted countless discussions about the mission he had taken upon himself to fulfill. As much as he hated disappointing Alfred, what choice did he have? Killing Joe Chill was merely the logical conclusion to Bruce's philosophical commitments. If death was the ultimate punishment, it would require death to satisfy what had happened to his parents.

What was the alternative? If goodness would win out in the end, and joy ruled the world, could those tools be used to bring Joe Chill to justice? The very idea seemed absurd. Besides, how would that even be fair? His parents had been murdered. Would Alfred expect Bruce to treat Chill with kindness in the hope that he would see the error of his ways? The very idea would have been laughable if it did not disgust him so much. However, Bruce's mind cautioned that this was not a just representation of Alfred's views. The butler would never advocate such a thing. He wanted Chill to be punished, but not by Bruce's hands. Or at least, that is what Bruce assumed Alfred would say. The conversation had never gotten that far. Bruce wouldn't let it. He had always rejected the butler's comments out of hand because they did not fit with what Bruce demanded of himself.

But that wasn't a rational reason for dismissing Alfred's objections. He just wanted Alfred to be wrong because he could not deal with the consequences of Alfred being right. If Alfred were right, then Bruce really was throwing his life away. If Alfred were right, his parents were disappointed in him. If Alfred were right, Bruce had allowed his life to be run by Chill. For some reason, Bruce's heart and mind revolted at the very notion.

As it stood, the only justification Bruce had for holding on to his beliefs about death and goodness was that it made life easier for him, twisted as that sounded. If he knew he was denying himself pointlessly, that his parents could be honored and avenged through some other means than the sacrifice of his happiness, it would make it that much harder for him to give up his life and future. Bruce's line of reasoning made choice obsolete. What had Alfred said earlier? His life was so narrow, it was inhuman. Stifling. But where there were no options, there was only one path to follow.

And how could he forget his own personal experience? When had he ever seen goodness triumph in the long run? He seriously doubted he would ever live to see such a thing happen. But how could he reconcile this with his past behavior towards Diana? Why was it alright to use his experiences to validate his beliefs? He chided and found fault with her, telling her she only thought the way she did because of her lack of exposure to the "real world." But his experience of it was no truer than hers, and her world was just as real as his. Therefore, he had to conclude that, though experience was important, it couldn't be the only compass to reality. There had to be something more, something outside of one's personal experiences that pointed the way to truth.

And so he was back to examining his justifications. If he were honest, the only reason he did not believe Alfred was because Bruce desperately wanted the butler to be right. But that was faulty reasoning. A person's desires, he knew, had little, if any, bearing on whether an idea was true or not. If they did, his parents would still be alive. In fact, his desires had so often proved false, Bruce had adopted the belief that whatever he wished to be true could not be a real depiction of reality. As he thought about it now, Bruce realized that conclusion had not been arrived at through reasoned argument. Rather it was a defense mechanism used by a young boy to keep his hopes and expectations low. One was never disappointed if they always expected the worst. This proved, yet again, the only reason he believed death to be more powerful than good was because Bruce doubted he would pursue justice for his parents if he were given the freedom not to. He remembered how quickly he had forgotten his parents' deaths during those heady first months on the island paradise. He was all too willing to believe that happiness and a new beginning existed for him, that goodness truly would win in his case. He had almost pursued being joyful with as much vigor as he pursued his own misery now. Only back then, it had been so much easier. Those desires for happiness had never disappeared, and he constantly had to push them back, subsuming them to his guilt and hatred.

But what was he to do with those better feelings—that part of his soul that so desperately ached for the whispered voice that had once visited him in his dreams to be proved right? Should he disregard them because they weren't indications of anything but some temporary phase he was going through? Or were there other ways, besides logic and reason, to access truth? Could the yearnings of his heart, of his boyhood, be showing him that he had gone horribly awry?

As Bruce pondered the answers to those questions, the candle burnt out. He shifted on the cold floor, his body sore. He must have been sitting there for hours, but he wasn't ready to leave just yet. Stretching his legs out before him, Bruce closed his eyes to the darkness surrounding him.

Diana appeared in his mind, her eyes bright, her vision clear. She lived such a charmed life, unclouded by doubt. He sometimes found her self-righteousness obnoxious, but there was a part of him that wished he could be so self-assured. She was not conflicted. She was simple in the best possible sense of the word. How was it that they were both so driven by duty to their parents, and yet she was happy and he was miserable? Perhaps that was why Alfred pushed him so hard towards Diana. He thought she could give him peace.

Bruce certainly had had no peace since he had met her. In fact, it was worse than before he had met her. His heart was constantly troubled, torn between devotion to his parents and a desire for what Diana represented. He knew the danger wasn't in his physical attraction to her. Her outward beauty was something he recognized, but that in itself did not scare him. It was everything she signified—joy, wholeness, wonder—those things he wanted so desperately for himself, but couldn't allow himself to have for fear that he would abandon his commitment to his father and mother. Bruce knew she was only human (well, maybe something a bit more than that), but he equated resisting her to satisfying the debt he owed his parents. Until Bruce decided it was possible to love his parents and yet do nothing to their murderer, he wouldn't allow his desires or feelings to influence him.

And so he was back to where he had started when had he first sat down. Was Alfred right?

Bruce was pulled rather abruptly from his thoughts by a sound coming from the entrance of his cave.

* * *

It had been nearly three weeks since Diana had met with Bruce privately. After each session with the other Amazons, she had walked away, too worried to stay and talk with him to set up another meeting. And from the looks he gave just before she left, he didn't seem that concerned about it.

She, on the other hand, was. In those three weeks, Diana had mastered what little he had taught her about the English language. Truth be told, she had conquered the material that first night. Her accent was still evident, but she was quite certain she had toned it down considerably. But she had no way of testing this without listening to him. On top of that, she wanted to know more. There was only so much she could do with the limited amount of information he gave her. She was growing bored.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Diana left the palace that evening. Wanting to respect Bruce's wishes that she not visit his home, Diana avoided the valley that held his domicile. Everywhere else she considered fair game. She first stopped at the training grounds, which were empty. After that, she tried his shooting range. Again, no one was there. Returning to the fire pit they had studied at on her last visit, she was left disappointed again.

Diana considered calling Philogea to her and asking where Bruce was, but she didn't want Bruce to see the horse leaving, which he undoubtedly would if he were with Philogea. It also felt like cheating. Not wanting to be seen by the Amazons or Bruce, she decided against flying, just to be safe. It looked like she would have to do things the complicated way: track him down.

It took her longer than usual to pick up a trail. For some reason he had covered his tracks very well. His paranoia was curious, and it made her smile. Who, she wondered, did he think was following him? Besides her, of course.

Even in his absence, he managed to frustrate her. What was it about him? Things were actually slightly better between them, lack of practices notwithstanding. Having experienced first-hand his fighting prowess (she had plenty of bruises to prove it), Diana had found a reason to respect him. Sure, there were other things about Bruce that she did not find quite so admirable, but it was a start, and she tenaciously held onto it. She had made a promise to her goddesses to show him kindness, and she would not be made a liar. It was hard, sometimes very hard, but it was growing easier. While he still managed to upset her, she was able to bite her tongue and swallow her anger. Perhaps she was aided by the fact that their interactions were under the supervision of others, but she would take the victories, no matter how small.

After being diverted once or twice, Diana finally felt confident that she had caught his scent. She trailed him all the way to the river. From there, she followed alongside the ambling waters.

There was a new moon overhead. Fortunately, the sky was lit with stars. Her heightened senses allowed her to see decently in the dark. They also enabled her to detect the sound of a waterfall much sooner than a normal human being could. Intrigued, Diana stopped paying attention and just followed the ever loudening sound of falling water.

She finally stopped at a large pool. The narrow falls leapt off the tall black rocks, providing a beautiful and glistening tapestry to the rock face.

Looking down, Diana noticed there was evidence that this site had been visited often. She supposed Bruce could be interested by the waterfall itself (it was beautiful, after all), but something told her there was more to this site than the scenery. Though her experiences with him were brief, Bruce did not strike Diana as the type to enjoy or appreciate beauty. There must have been some other reason this place was significant to him, and she decided to find it out. As the trail ended at her feet, she knew she would have to go into the pool.

Jumping in, the brisk cool of the water jolted Diana. She dived underneath the water, but was not able to see much. Resurfacing for oxygen, Diana looked about, slowly turning in a circle. There was nothing she could see that would be of much interest to Bruce. Then it occurred to her: it was the falls. Or more correctly, what was hiding behind them.

That seemed more up Bruce's alley. He liked facades and his control. He would delight in something as dank and dark as a secret cave. Most likely riddled with bats.

_Well, that explains the shape of his little weapons._ Diana smiled in triumph as she swam over to the falls.

Passing underneath the curtain of liquid, Diana pulled herself up onto the rocks. Standing, she wrung her clothes out as much as possible. As she stepped into the cave's entrance, a shiver ran down her spine. She had not expected it to be so cold.

Walking further, she held to the rock's side. Her night vision was inferior to her regular sight, especially when there was no starlight to guide her.

The hallway opened up into a great expanse, and she looked up. Sure enough, there were the bats. She shouldn't have been surprised; she had smelled them from outside. What she hadn't detected was Bruce's scent, but it was unmistakable now, masked though it was by the unpleasant bat odor.

In fact, if Diana wasn't mistaken, Bruce's scent was growing stronger. Suddenly alarmed, Diana stopped walking. Holding her breath, Diana counted to twenty before she moved again. There had been no sound, no cause for alarm. Diana let out a sigh of relief. She must have just been nearing a place in the cave he frequented more than any other. That was all.

Diana took a step forward and turned around, looking back at where she had come from. She noticed that the there was another corridor near the one she had just walked through. Hers opened to the waterfall, the other led to darkness, but she assumed it eventually opened to the outside.

Diana took another step forward and stepped on a loose rock. She quickly regained her lost balance, but the stone had scraped against the floor, making a loud screeching noise. There was a pregnant pause before Diana heard a distant whispering. At first it was soft, but the sound continued amplifying. She barely had enough time to press herself against the wall before a colony of bats brushed past her and down into the darkened corridor. The violent fluttering of their wings kept time with her speeding heart. At first she was afraid, but as the seconds passed, her fear turned into discomfort and finally mild disgust. If she never saw a bat again, it would be too soon. Convinced that the last winged creature had forced itself past her, Diana slumped against the wall. What had been a simple mission had quickly become complicated. And by bats. Thinking about it, Diana was able to see the humor in her situation and let out a tiny laugh. This was ridiculous. It was time to go home.

Quickly turning around, Diana took a step into another unyielding mass, though this one was much warmer than the ancient stone. Strong fingers wrapped around her arm, and Diana gasped in shock. Due to the suddenness of the attack, the princess did not fight back against the assailant. Within a second, Diana realized it was Bruce, but by then he had already pinned her against the wall, twisting her arm behind her painfully.

Between the chill of the rock and the feel of his breath hot on her neck, Diana shivered against him reflexively. His grip momentarily tightened, but he quickly lowered her arm a few inches, relieving the pressure in her limb.

As they continued standing next to each other in silence, Diana realized that, while her clothes were still wet, his were perfectly dry. He must have already been in the cave, and judging by the lack of moisture, he had been there for awhile.

"What are you doing here?" His gruff voice carried a threatening edge. Even though Diana knew she possessed the strength of Demeter, she felt intimated by the faceless presence behind her. She tried turning her head to look at him, but he was out of her line of sight.

Having had enough of his interrogation tactics, Diana resolved to tear herself free from his hold, but before she did, Bruce dropped her arm and took a step back. Diana rubbed the appendage, glaring at him before she realized he could not see her. Bruce couldn't even know it was her until she spoke. He must have thought she was one of the other Amazons.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated again, his voice still dangerous.

"I was looking for you," she answered.

"Here?" She could just make out the skeptical raise of his eyebrows.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Her stomach churned, and she felt guilty. Unaccustomed to the sensation, Diana quickly learned she did not like shame. But this was her island. She shouldn't have to explain her comings and goings to him. So why did she feel like she had intruded on some sanctuary of his?

If he would only back away, she could breathe more freely. Mentally taking herself to task, Diana stepped forward. She would not offer excuses. What was done, was done. And really, what did she have to apologize for?

Speaking more boldly than she felt, Diana replied, "It has been three weeks since we have met without anyone else present."

"And?"

"And? I assumed we would be meeting more often than twice a week, and under the supervision of others."

"The current arrangement works for me." Bruce turned and started to walk away.

"Well, it's doesn't work for me."

Why he thought he could dismiss her so easily, she didn't know. Grabbing his arm, Diana turned him around. As soon as she touched him, a current of sensation shocked her, even more than her plunge into the cold water had minutes ago. Diana dropped her hand, as if the contact with his skin scorched her. The feelings of intense anger, confusion, and…disappeared into thin air, as if she had imagined them. The more she tried to recapture the sensations, to catalog them, the less certain she was they had ever really existed.

More confused than ever, Diana looked up at Bruce. He could not see in the dark, though he was somehow watching the hand that had touched him. Just as before, his face was as impassive as ever. Surely it was impossible that someone as emotionally stunted as the man standing across from her could possess such intense and powerful feelings. But they most certainly had not come from her.

Remembering why she had been looking for Bruce in the first place, Diana quietly said, "I want to learn more English, and I can't unless we are alone."

As the seconds passed and Bruce still had not said anything, Diana looked up at him. Secure in her knowledge that he could not see her, Diana studied his face. Her statement didn't seem to have any affect on him. He just stood there, evaluating some point in the dark.

"Alright."

"Alright?" Diana repeated. She had expected more of an argument.

"Yes. When would you like to begin again?"

"Tonight, if possible."

"No. Tomorrow," he said, his voice slow and even.

He began to walk to the cave's entrance again, and Diana reached out her hand to help guide him in the dark. Remembering what had happened earlier, she dropped it before it made contact with his skin.

Diana dumbly followed him as he slowly, but surely, picked his way through the dark. He did not need her help. He must have visited this cave thousands of times if he could navigate it in the dark. Whatever thoughts this revelation inspired washed away as she followed him into the cold water. They resurfaced and swam in silence to the other side of the pool.

When they were both on land, Diana stole a glance over at him. His chiton was soaked, dripping with water, just like his hair. The black locks were slicked back from his face, and the starlight dusted the strong planes and angles of his face and body. Beads of water covered his skin, but he made no effort to brush them off. He was simply staring back at the waterfall, his expression unreadable. It wasn't difficult for Diana to draw comparisons between Bruce and his cave. Cold, forbidding, unyielding, proud. Empty?

"Where should I meet you?" she asked.

"Same place as last time."

"And the same time?"

"Yes."

Diana moved towards him, but stopped when he took a step back. "Thank you, Bruce. I will see you tomorrow."

"Diana?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever come back here."

Diana nodded her acquiescence to what she knew was a command. He turned away, but Diana kept watching the waterfall until she could no longer hear him leaving. When she was certain he was gone, she flew back to the palace, painfully aware that she felt cold all over.

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**To Be Continued

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**For my anonymous lovelies!**

**Mischief**- Hi there! I'm sorry I took so long to post. This chapter was a bit difficult for me. Thanks for putting your imaginings on hold for me. I hope I didn't disappoint. Have you ever considered some future storylines? There is always room for another BMWW writer. I know I love scanning the JLU story page and reading story after story about Bruce and Diana. There can never be too much! LOL, I'm glad you like my "subtlety." I've started on chapter 12, but it's a bit slow going. Feel free to poke and prod me into writing action. Seriously, sometimes it's the reviews that force me to continue writing.

**Loving it**- Hola! Glad you are enjoying this. Boredom is never fun, so I'm happy to contribute to the alleviation of it. =D

**LT8**-Howdy! Thanks for review and kind words. I'm glad I made you laugh. =D

**d**-Ciao! Thanks for sending me the correction. I fixed it. I'm glad you could see the classic Batman 'tude coming out. While I'm giving him a semi-different upbringing, I still want him to be Batman (though he will be a bit tweaked by the end of this story). The true BMWW fluff is coming. Until then, we will have to content ourselves with these little snippets of faux-fluff. Hoping you still like Alfred after this chapter. I don't know if Bruce appreciated his reasons for hiding information from him, but I'm hoping they seem adequate to the normal person (i.e. not Bruce). And thanks for letting me know you like my replies. I figure if you are taking the time to reply, I should reply back. Besides, I like these fun little interactions. =D Thanks for reviewing.

**skyfox**-Bouna notte! I like tension between BMWW too. But I also like it when that tension is broken. It is coming, my friend! Diana could totally best him in a fight now, if she wanted. She has the power to do it. But when she is fighting powerless she is at a disadvantage. She is having to consciously "dumb" herself down, and she is also at a height and weight disadvantage. But she will become more and more competent, and things will start to even out between the two.

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My notes:

**New note added**: Diana's reaction is another hint at one of her powers. It isn't that much different than the similar one she has in the comics, though I gave it a slight twist. I'll be exploring it in later chapters.

One poster said in a previous chapter that they wanted Bruce's ideas about good and evil explored a bit more. I tried doing that in this chapter. I want him questioning if his justifications for the way he lives are correct. It's difficult though; I tried to make his thinking process somewhat linear, so the statements in one paragraph should logically lead to his questionings in the following paragraph(s). I was also trying to show, again, that Bruce's attraction to Diana is something more than "Wow, she's hot." If it were just that, I don't think he'd be so hesitant to be around her. Anyway, I hope it didn't seem like a retread of things that had already happened in previous chapters.

For me this chapter is a turning point in the BMWW "relationship." I know Bruce's and Diana's behavior might seem too dramatic (Bruce) or confused (Diana) or whatever, but things will start getting lighter in the next chapter and their behavior will seem more consistent. It's now time to develop rapport and a relationship. =D

Thanks for reading, everyone!


	13. Confession

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Thanks to Kipling N. for slogging through this massive chapter of craziness. I owe you. To repay the debt, I offer you baby seals for the enclave. I kind of like polar bears, but I'm not sure the baby seals will. I leave that to your discretion. **:D **And I know this is utterly random (unlike all the other things I've given you), but I'm giving you the complete series of Family Matters. And thank you, Hepburn, for your kind words about my "creations." You get Full House!

Slightly random and possibly annoying: I'm loving the new feature where you can see which countries are reading your stories. I'm dedicating this chapter to the readers from Lithuania (Labas!), Latvia (Sveiki!), and Estonia (Tere!). I don't actually think I have someone reading from Lithuania; it's purely wishful thinking on my part. I don't know if I said "hi" correctly, I just took the greetings from some random website. From now on, I'm putting country dedications in my stories!

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**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 12:**

**Confession**

* * *

Diana squinted as the sunlight poured through her window and straight into her eyes. With a groan, she flipped over onto her stomach. Having not slept at all the previous night, she did not want to get out of bed.

Dragging herself away from the silken sheets, Diana stumbled over to her mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes bloodshot and puffy. After splashing some cold water on her face, Diana grabbed a clean chiton and pulled it on, making her way to breakfast with her mother.

Things had not been the same between her and Hippolyta since the day she had first met Bruce. Her mother's inability to trust her with more information about him had made it difficult for Diana to confide in her, though she sorely needed someone to talk to. During the meal, few words were exchanged between the two, but Diana learned her presence was requested by another Amazon, an artist by the name of Alexandra. Breakfast was brief, due to lack of conversation and appetite.

As soon as she was finished, Diana left to find Alexandra. The walk from the palace to Alexandra's studio was quite a distance. The artist's home was right on the edge of the city, directly atop the steep drop into the ocean. Consequently, Alexandra had one of the best views on the island.

While Diana could have flown, she decided to go on foot. As princess, she was generally left to herself, and today was no exception. While the isolation left her lonely, especially with the current tension with Hippolyta robbing her of her one confidante, Diana used the time to think about the recent changes in her life. Weaving through the twisting streets and crossing the multiple bridges, Diana's thoughts inevitably returned to the previous night.

Foremost in her mind was the instance when she had touched Bruce in the cave. The flash of emotion had been brilliant in its intensity, and while it lasted no longer than a second, the experience remained with her. During the night she had been unable to sleep, trying to recapture the sensations that had coursed through her, but they were elusive. Once she had stopped trying, it occurred to her that the incident could be the result of a new power, though she did not know what it was or what triggered it. If it was caused by physical contact, why had she not experienced before? And what exactly had she experienced? The best idea she touched upon was that somehow she had felt Bruce's emotions.

Apart from the uncertainties surrounding her possible new power, the sharpness of the emotions had caused other problems to surface, all of them concerning Bruce. Much as she tried to define him and the type of interactions they should have together, Diana could not. Only one thing was certain. His cold façade was an act. What would possess a person to sit in darkness hour after hour? There must have been something that had happened to him that caused him to withdraw to the cave. He was intelligent, and she had interacted with him often enough to know he was not crazy. The only reasonable explanation was some past trauma, something terrible enough to cause the burning rage and confusion she had felt last night.

But such an explanation only complicated matters. She could no longer think of him in the familiar categories of man and mission. As a man, he was her enemy. As a man, he was supposed to inflict pain, not be afflicted by it. Courtesy of Aphrodite, Diana's kind heart was greatly affected by the suffering of others. Since she lived on an idyllic island, she did not have much opportunity to see grief, so those rare instances where she was confronted with anything painful affected her profoundly. In this case, Bruce's inner turmoil was making it impossible for her to consider him an enemy.

She could no longer think of him as a mission, either. It had been easier that way, subordinating her negative feelings towards him out of respect for the goddesses. The enforced kindness had been working, but she now saw how woefully inadequate it was. It was too impersonal. In her old conception, the mission was important, but Bruce didn't really matter. He was just some faceless, replaceable problem Diana used for her own benefit, a way of proving to herself that she could be obedient and dutiful to the goddesses. But his suffering changed things. It injected a human element into the mix, making it impossible for her to view her well-being apart from Bruce's. The mission now had to include Bruce and his happiness, or it would be a failure.

Something had to change.

"Hello, Princess Diana."

Alexandra's voice broke through Diana's reverie. Looking up, she saw the shorter woman leaning against her doorframe, a smile on her face. It had been a while since Diana had seen the sculptor. Alexandra's hair was pulled away from her face in her customary ponytail, though the brown curls always found a way of freeing themselves. Her eyes were a light brown, sprinkled with golden flecks, not unlike tiger's eye. They were beautiful, but also had the downside of making Diana feel uncomfortable in Alexandra's presence. The woman's steady and observant gaze was unnerving. Sometimes Diana felt as if Alexandra could read her mind, and given her recent musings, that was unacceptable.

And yet, there was a relatability Alexandra possessed that Diana often found missing in the other Amazons. Her face was kinder than most, and she possessed a youthful vigor that was sorely lacking in the old souls that inhabited the island. Having speculated about it before, Diana had come to the conclusion that being an artist enabled her to look at the world differently, to be excited about it and actually let it show. If she were to have a friend apart from her mother, it probably could have been her.

"Good morning, Alexandra."

"Please, come in." The artist motioned toward a couch in the center of the room.

From her seat, Diana looked around the studio. There were various projects in different stages of completion scattered about: vases, busts, pots, figures. The room was an organized disaster, but bore the marks of a fertile creativity.

"So, what would you like me to do?" Diana asked.

"Nothing, really. You can just sit."

Having thought she would be standing and posing the whole time, Diana was relieved.

"It has been a while, Diana. What have you been up to?"

The two biggest events of the past few months—discovering Bruce and that she was the Amazon Champion—were off limits. Diana could only reply, "Not much. And you?"

"I have been experimenting in a new medium. Xanthia has been showing me how to sketch and paint. In fact, I was hoping to paint your portrait."

With thousands of Amazons on the island, Diana was not sure which Xanthia the artist was speaking of, though she had a vague inkling. "Alright."

Alexandra's supplies were at the ready. She sat down on her stool a few feet away from Diana, alternating looks between the subject and canvas.

The minutes passed in silence, and Diana tried not to squirm in her seat as Alexandra studied her face. She wasn't successful.

"Is something wrong? You look tired," Alexandra observed as she drew on the canvas.

"I'm just restless."

"Hmmm."

Again, there was a long silence. It was always a mystery which Alexandra would appear when Diana sat for her. Often times she was loquacious and cheerful. Rarely, she would be uncommunicative and pensive, like today. Diana preferred the former version, especially now when she wanted to escape her thoughts.

"So, do I need to smile or anything?" Diana asked.

"No, you are fine as you are."

A few more minutes passed before Diana tried again. "I have not seen you in awhile, and you are hardly speaking. Is there something wrong?"

Alexandra looked up from her canvas and gave Diana a slight smile. "I suppose I am just restless too."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Not really. No. At least, not recently."

Alexandra peered around her drawing and burst into laughter when she saw the look on Diana's face. "I'm sorry for being so enigmatical. I would tell you, but…" she nodded toward her bracelets in explanation.

Diana knew few details about the past, only the bare outline. Heracles and his men came, saw, and ravaged. Unsurprisingly, none of the women liked talking about it, and it was considered a taboo topic around the innocent princess. But Diana figured she had gone through enough upheaval in the past months to merit more information.

"How long ago was it?"

"Thousands of years ago. Almost four thousand."

"And it still…?" Diana didn't know how to finish the question, so she left it open-ended, hoping Alexandra would supply the missing pieces. She was not disappointed.

"Bothers me? Yes. There are some things that stay with you forever. This is one of them." The artist did not look up once from her sketching; Alexandra's lack of emotion in discussing these things encouraged Diana to inquire further.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course, but I cannot promise I will be able to answer it."

"Do you hate men?"

"Sometimes."

That was surprising. Diana always assumed that hatred was the permanent and only reaction the Amazons had towards the enemy.

"Only sometimes?"

"Yes. I could not imagine what it would be like to live thousands of years with such a draining and embittering emotion constantly eating away at my soul. Thank the goddesses I have been spared that." The last part of her speech was uttered more forcefully than the rest.

"But how is that possible? How do you not hate them for what they did to you?"

Alexandra paused in mid-motion, her piece of lead hovering just above the canvas.

"Diana, I'm not sure you would understand my reasons."

This silenced the princess momentarily. Trying to figure out why Alexandra would think that, Diana said, "Is the only thing keeping you from telling me your belief that I will judge you? If so, please don't let that stop you. If you just don't want to tell me, I would rather you say that. I don't want to force a confidence."

"I admit that I worry your opinion of me will change, but there are other things to take into consideration. Your mother, for instance. She would not appreciate me telling you about that time."

Diana huffed indignantly. "My mother's caution cannot always protect me. If anything, she has put me at a disadvantage by not telling me the absolute truth."

"There are few who can handle the absolute truth. And that is not fair to your mother. It would not have been appropriate to tell you these things when you were younger. You would not have been able to grasp them. It would have damaged you more than full disclosure."

"Well, I'm not a child anymore." Diana tried not to wince at the petulant delivery of her declaration of adulthood.

Alexandra finally put down the lead and looked at Diana. The brown eyes briefly flickered, causing the gold flecks to sparkle. Diana could tell Alexandra had made her decision.

Getting up from her chair, the artist walked over to a chest in the corner of the room. It opened soundlessly, as if it had been well-oiled and used repeatedly through the years. Alexandra carefully rummaged through its contents, withdrawing a bundle of emerald-colored silk with the utmost care.

Walking back to the couch, Alexandra clutched the parcel tightly to her chest. As she sat down beside Diana, the princess knew the things Alexandra held to her heart were precious, and what she was about to reveal was of the greatest significance to her.

"Diana…"

The younger woman reached out a comforting hand and placed it on Alexandra's shoulder, causing the artist to look over at her. Her brown eyes were glistening.

"While I cannot promise I will understand, I will not judge you," Diana assured her.

Lowering the bundle into her lap, Alexandra carefully unwrapped the green material, giving Diana her first glimpse into the Amazons' hidden past. Even not knowing what to expect, the sight left her speechless.

On top of all the objects was a carving, the face of a man chiseled out of white marble. His hair was close-cropped and curled around his face. Deep-set eyes under a commanding brow stared back at her. While he did not look like Bruce, he shared a strong jaw and straight nose. His lips were thinner, and his face was not quite so angular as Bruce's, but it still looked pleasing.

Gazing down on the mask, Alexandra quietly stated, "His name was Paramonos." Gently setting the image aside, she handed a portrait of the man over to her. He had light blond hair and vibrant green eyes. "Xanthia did this for me." There was another picture, but this one was of a man and woman. While she knew who the man was, she was uncertain of the woman's identity. Looking over at Alexandra, Diana confirmed the woman in the painting was seated beside her.

The two were seated in the picture, but Diana could tell Paramonos was very tall, towering over Alexandra, his build easily eclipsing hers. The two sat beside a diminutive myrtle tree in full bloom. Alexandra's hand was in her lap, playing with some of the pink blossoms as she smiled at something in the distance. Her hair was unbound, falling down in loose curls to the middle of her back. As for Paramonos, he was in the process of tucking her hair behind her ear, readying it for the pink flower he held in his other hand. He was wearing his uniform, though its forbidding nature was negated by the gentle smile on his face and the tenderness of the action he was about to commit.

It was a lovely picture, but Diana felt odd looking at it. She had never seen anything like this before, and it stirred unknown emotions inside of her.

"The painting is beautiful. Xanthia is very talented," Diana offered.

"Yes, she can capture moments and infuse them with life. I've always enjoyed how realistic her work is."

"He was handsome-looking."

Alexandra laughed. "Yes, he was. He was also a very good man. The best I have ever known."

"How did you meet him?"

"I don't know what you have been told, but before Heracles betrayed the Amazons, he and his men were welcomed with open arms by the Amazons. Our hospitality was second to none, and they stayed with us for many months. It was during that time that I got to know Paramonos. Within his battalion he was one of the company leaders. During those months, the Amazons would often spar with the men. He was my first sparring partner. Eventually he came to be my only sparring partner. I did not know it at the time, but he had arranged it that way.

"At first I did not like him. Or at least I told myself I didn't. I was young and committed to the Amazon ideal of female independence and sufficiency. I was focused on becoming the best warrior I could possibly be, and I did not want any distractions. But then he started talking to me about art, and I found myself weakening. At the time, it had only been a hobby of mine, something I set aside when I came of age. But he was so learned and talented, and when I saw his work, I was amazed. Paramonos was so passionate about everything he did. He could talk for hours about technique and lighting, any subject really. He loved life and found pleasure in everything around him, and it was very difficult, nearly impossible for me not to be drawn to him. He asked me to sit for him in exchange for art lessons, and one thing led to another…"

"So you became friends with him?"

A blush crawled over Alexandra's skin, pinking her cheeks and neck. "No, Diana. He was my lover."

Sensing Diana's confusion, Alexandra slowly said, "There are different kinds of love, Diana. A love between a mother and daughter. A love for a pet or a painting. Between friends. Between a man and a woman."

"But he betrayed you?"

"Actually, no...When he learned of Heracles' intentions, he quit his post. He told me we had to go, that he would be killed if Heracles found him, and that something terrible was going to happen to the Amazons within the hour, but I couldn't leave. Themyscira was all I knew, and I was scared to leave it, to make my home with him." The regret in her words was palpable, and while Diana could not understand wanting to leave Themyscira, she felt sorry that Alexandra had not left with Paramonos.

"I said some horrible things to make him leave me alone, but he refused. He was on the verge of just taking me with him when some of the Amazons came upon us. They did not know about our relationship, only Xanthia and a few others did. They thought he was attacking me and forced him to leave. I thought for sure that was the last I would ever see of him, and my heart broke."

At this point in her narration, Alexandra was nearly crying. Diana knew what came next in the story, that things only got worse, and it was with an equally sorrowful heart that she listened to the horrors of that night. By the end, Diana felt disgusted and dirtied, and her heart bled for her sisters and longed for retribution. But Alexandra was not finished.

"About a week after this happened, Heracles left with some of his men, but the majority of them remained to guard over us. I had taken the particular interest of one of the higher ranking officials and was kept in his quarters…

"You cannot imagine how much I regret not leaving with Paramonos. And not just because of what happened in the aftermath. I loved him, Diana, and those last moments I had with him were tainted by my refusal to trust him."

"You could not have known," Diana replied, tears stinging her eyes at the woman's grief, and guilt.

"I should have believed him though…" Alexandra took a deep, cleansing breath before continuing, "It didn't matter, because he came back for me. I don't know how long I had been a captive, and I thought for certain that I had been dreaming. Or dying. As soon as I saw him, I burst into tears. I had not cried in so long, not since he had left me, and for him to see me degraded and defiled was too much, even if he were only a dream. But he wasn't. Somehow he had found me. It helped that I was kept from the other Amazons, made it much easier for him to kill my captor without anyone knowing."

"He wasn't even angry with me, just sorry that he hadn't been able to take me away the first time. The way he was beating himself up, you would have thought he believed it was his fault for what happened to me...That night we escaped, making our way to Athens. He took care of me and nursed me back to health. He promised that when we arrived in Athens I would become his wife. You can imagine my surprise when I was not horrified by the announcement. By that time, I wanted to bind myself to him. We already belonged to one another; I wanted it fortified by any and every means possible."

Alexandra shook her head, effectively coming out of her trance. Looking over at Diana, she gave her a wry smile, "So in answer to your previous question, yes, sometimes I hate men. I hate them for what they did to me and my sisters. I hate them for the grief and guilt they caused Paramonos. But I know that they are not all like that. Paramonos proved that. And he was not the only man who fell in love with an Amazon. There were others like him, others that condemned Heracles' madness. And because of that, I have been able to limit my hatred to those who actually committed the crimes, rather than to their whole sex."

"What happened to him? Why are you here instead of…"

"Perhaps we can leave that for another day."

Diana almost protested, but one look at Alexandra's face silenced her. It probably wasn't often that she had to relate the story, and it was clearly taking a lot out of her.

On impulse, Diana hugged her. When she pulled away, Alexandra smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you."

"Any time. Do you still want me to sit for the portrait?"

"No, I think we are done for today, but would you come back next week?"

"Of course. Same time?"

"Yes."

Diana quietly exited Alexandra's house, throwing one last look at the artist. Alexandra's head was bent over the picture of Paramonos and her, no doubt wishing that life would imitate art.

* * *

Having all this new information to digest, Diana decided to skip lunch and explore the island. It had been a long time since she had visited her favorite spots, and the familiarity of it all brought her comfort.

As the sun set, Diana returned back to the palace for a quick dinner, before heading out to Bruce's side of the island. She found him sitting next to the char-filled pit, reading a book.

He did not look up from his reading, commenting, "You're here early."

"Yes. I hope you don't mind."

He didn't say anything, and as usual, she didn't know what he was thinking. Choosing to take his silence for acceptance, Diana sat beside him. Bruce moved to put the book away, but stopped when she touched his shoulder.

"What are you reading?"

"Virgil."

He held out the book to her, and she took it. The words were in English, and it was with great satisfaction that she recognized some of them. She paged through the book, stopping at the first illustration she saw. Vividly detailed and colored was a depiction of a city in flames. In the background loomed a large wooden horse, its side gaping wide.

Diana looked up and asked "Who is Virgil?"

"He was a Roman poet who wrote about Aeneas."

"I do not know who that is either."

He took the book from her hands and flipped through some pages. Handing it back to her, she saw the book was now opened to the picture of a soldier following a girl hunter through a forest.

"Aeneas is a mythological hero who is credited as the father and founder of the Rome. The Romans would go on to be the greatest military force and empire in the world."

"He was not real?"

"No. He was supposedly the son of Aphrodite; that's the girl in the picture he's following. Virgil just wanted to give Rome an epic story and beginning, so he linked their origin to the Trojan War."

Diana's curiosity was piqued by these new bits of information. Aphrodite had a child with a mortal man? And then there was the Trojan War. She had heard some snatches of conversation every now and then about it, and knew that her Aunt Penthesilea had died during that war. She would have asked her mother to confirm if Aeneas had ever lived, but to do so would indicate that she was learning things she wasn't supposed to. Still, while Bruce did not think he existed, Diana was less skeptical. Perhaps she could ask Alexandra about it.

Diana's thoughts on the matter evaporated when she noticed Bruce looking intently at her hair. Wondering if there was a bug or leaf in it, she raised her fingers to the sea of black. They came in contact with the petals of a flower she had snatched during her afternoon adventures and tucked behind her ear. Self-conscious, she pulled it out and set it on the ground between them.

His hand moved towards the flower. Just before he touched it, he asked, "Do you mind?"

Slightly confused at the question, Diana shook her head, feeling a small smile form on her lips. "No. Of course not."

He picked the flower up, turning it around, examining it with a cool, assessing gaze. His was a much different reaction to the flower than hers, she noted. She had plucked the partially opened blossom because she had thought it beautiful. Most of the startlingly white petals were wrapped tightly around its center; the white was tipped at the very ends with crimson. She had seen this flower in full bloom, opened up to the sun, so she knew the inner sides of the petals were awash with red. In a few days, it would open, and she looked forward to seeing it in all its glory.

Bruce twirled the flower around slowly, taking it in from all angles. Then his fingers moved over the petals, gauging the texture. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled a few times before pulling it away.

"Is it poisonous?" he asked.

"No."

His tongue darted out and touched the flower for a brief moment. If his face was anything to go by, he did not like its taste. Diana hid her amusement at his curious actions, not wanting him to think she was laughing at him. Then to her surprise, he started forcing the flower open.

When he started tearing some of the petals away to see its innards, Diana became distressed. Stopping his hand with her own, she asked, "What are you doing?"

He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. "Seeing inside." They trailed down to her fingers, which were still on his. She grabbed the flower back and set it in her lap. Diana knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't understand why he would rip the flower apart. Staring down at the damaged petals, Diana felt sad and didn't know why.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

Bruce cleared his throat, and his voice was even gruffer than usual. "I've never seen this kind of flower before. I wanted to learn about it."

"By destroying it?"

He didn't say anything, but that didn't keep Diana from feeling stupid. She had no objection he would understand; she could not even put into words why his actions had disturbed her.

Reluctantly, Diana handed the already broken flower over to Bruce. He looked over at her one last time before stripping the flower down further. Occasionally, he would point out various pieces of the bloom's anatomy and explain their functions, but it was lost on the princess. All Diana could see were fragments of something that had once been whole.

Diana looked away from the process, not wanting him to see how it bothered her. Eventually Bruce was still beside her, and she turned back. He was holding out their English book. Taking it, she opened it and thoughtlessly thumbed through the pages while she waited for him to start their lesson.

"It was already dying." He added quietly, "It started dying as soon as you picked it."

"I know that. But what can you can learn from it in this state?" She gestured to the shreds, but they were no longer there. He must have hidden them. "I could have told you about it. And if you had waited, it would have eventually opened."

"I doubt you could have told me the things I want to learn."

"How could you possibly know that, since you didn't even ask me?" She looked over at him, anticipating his impassive and irritating expression. The small smile quickly deflated her anger.

She realized he was making an effort to explain his actions, and so she responded in kind. "I picked that flower because I thought it was beautiful. I wanted to be changed by the flower. You, well, I have no idea what you wanted from it."

"I think you're making too big a deal of this. I didn't want to change it or destroy it. Like I said, I have never studied that particular flower before. I needed to take it apart to figure it out."

"And what did you figure out? What it tastes like? What it feels and smells like? You might have broken it into tiny, more manageable pieces, but none of those things tells you about the flower. They're only fragments. Once you destroyed it, it stopped being a flower."

"I couldn't have learned anything by keeping it in tact."

"Of course you could have; you just don't value the kind of knowledge you would have gained." Diana paused to search his face, hoping to see something, anything that showed he understood. Finding nothing there, she cast her gaze to the ground, saddened. "Haven't you ever seen something so lovely you just had to wonder at it? Something that inspired you to create something beautiful, or to become beautiful too?"

He sat perfectly still, withholding his answer. She finally looked up at him when she could bear the silence no longer. The slight smile she had earlier witnessed had been replaced by the stern face she had grown accustomed to.

"No, I suppose you haven't," she said dully.

For some reason, this disappointed Diana even more than him tearing the flower apart. Pushing those feelings aside, Diana opened the book again and offered Bruce a tight smile.

"So where were we?"

* * *

By the time he arrived home, Bruce was exhausted. The events of yesterday—discovering Chill's arrest, fighting with Alfred, Diana finding his cave—had drained him, and he was still trying to recover.

Not wanting to speak with Alfred yet, Bruce retreated to his lab. He took a seat in front of his bench and pulled out the pieces of flower from his satchel. The white and red petals were wilted, curling and browning at the edges. His eyes focused on the dead flower before him, but his mind was miles away. As he mindlessly poked and prodded at the organic scraps, he considered Diana's words. She might not have believed it, but he was just as capable as she was of appreciating and being inspired by something lovely and good. Only in his case, it wasn't a flower.

He had recognized the loneliness in her face, and he wanted her to know that he understood what she meant, but the words had died in his mouth, choked by years of habit aimed at self-preservation. Now, alone by himself, he felt a stab of regret at the missed opportunity.

Weariness crept into Bruce's bones, and he hung his head in his hands. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

* * *

The sun felt too warm on Bruce's skin. Needing to cool off, he snaked through the trees, heading toward his pond. Seeing that no one was around, Bruce dove in, still fully clothed.

His eyes open under the water, Bruce watched the life teeming around him. Tiny fish rich in color and energy darted in and out amongst the long, green fingers of the underwater plants, while water snails slowly carried their homes across the pebbles scattered across the pond's floor. The gentle current of the water and the stirrings of the sun cast ever-shifting shadows and light beams on the marine life, alternately enhancing and concealing the dynamic rainbows dancing before him.

Bruce stayed submerged as long as possible. Finally, with lungs screaming for oxygen, Bruce swam for the surface, gasping for air. As soon as he broke through the water, he wished he hadn't. Reclining against the nearest tree was Diana.

Swimming over to the bank, Bruce lifted himself out the water and stood next to her, towering over her seated form. The droplets from his clothes fell on her legs, but she didn't look up. Her eyes seemed entranced by his feet.

"Our next meeting isn't until tomorrow. What are you doing here?" he asked.

In answer, Diana slowly wrapped her fingers around his ankle. The pressure of her hand traveling up his calf was not enough to make him stumble, but he could not suppress the chill that went down his spine.

He knelt down and his fingers wrapped around hers as he tried to undo her hold, but she wouldn't let go. Her eyes flickered up to his face in obvious interest. The look she gave him was innocent; she had no idea what she was doing to him. "I've been curious," she finally replied.

"About what?"

"You."

With a slight tug, Bruce was sprawled out on the ground. Diana moved quickly, so that now she was leaning over him, her hands trailing lightly over his arms. He could and most definitely should have moved, but the gentleness of her motions kept him in place.

Staring up into her face, he hoped to see her eyes clouded with emotion and desire. Instead, it was as if he were looking back at himself. The blue gaze critically sized him up as it examined his face and upper body. Her index finger traced over a straining tendon in his neck before idly working its way down the veins of his chest.

Seemingly content with feeling his skin, Diana's hand stopped moving above his heart. She then leaned forward, pressing her nose into his neck before she inhaled deeply. Diana did this a few more times, though the exact number was lost to Bruce. Her hair tickled against his skin, distracting him.

"What do you want to know?" Bruce forced through clenched teeth.

"A lot of things. Unfortunately, I don't trust you to tell me the truth." The statement was made as an observation rather than an insult. As such the words were emotionless and cold, contrasting sharply with the warmth of her breath on his skin. For a brief second, he felt her tongue on his neck, tentatively tasting him.

"If you don't trust me, what are you going to do?"

Diana raised her head and stared down at him. "I've decided that you are right." Instantly, both her hands were at his shoulders, holding him to the ground.

"If I want to learn how you work, I must open you up." One of her hands released his shoulder and disappeared behind her back. When it reappeared a moment later, a sharpened knife was in its grasp. Diana lowered it to his chest, and the blade scratched the surface of his skin, drawing blood.

The cut was clean, and there was no pain. He wouldn't even have known he was injured were it not for the warmth of his blood rushing to the top of his skin. The red liquid formed a thin stripe across the midline of his white chest, and Diana tilted her head to the side, puzzled by the sight. "I do not see anything. Perhaps I didn't go deep enough."

Bruce watched in horror as she lifted the knife above her head before plunging it straight into his heart.

The threat of dying jarred Bruce from his slumber so effectively, he nearly fell off his stool. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he forced himself to make the trek to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, not sure if he wanted to fall asleep again, but unable to stay awake.

* * *

They met again the next day, though Diana came later in the evening. She sat down beside him, and Bruce noticed she was cradling something in one of her hands.

Keeping her hand closed around whatever it was she was holding, Diana looked over at him. "Bruce, there is something I wish to speak with you about."

He had no idea what she was going to say, but her formal tone and clasped hands piqued his interest.

"Alright."

"Do you dislike me?"

Before he could stop himself, he blinked. "What?"

"Given how we met, I can understand you disliking me initially. I apologized for that, and since then I have made numerous efforts to be kind to you. While I don't expect you to fall at my feet in gratitude, I feel as if you are always upset with me, and I don't understand why." She looked at him expectantly, and he knew this time, he had to answer.

"I don't dislike you, and I'm not upset with you."

"I know that is not true, but I also know you will not tell me why I upset you. I have thought about it a lot, and the only thing I can come up with is that you think I will treat you like my aunt and her soldiers have. I had hoped you would see that I am different from them."

"I know you aren't like them."

Diana gave him an exasperated look. "Then why are you like this towards me?"

Because I'm insanely attracted to you. Because the last time I gave my heart to something other than myself, it was torn to shreds. Neither of those answers or the other ones he had were suitable to voice, though they were true. He finally settled on: "Because I have to be."

Diana nodded her head, her lips in a firm line. "I remember what you said to me about emotions the last time we sparred alone. You think I will hurt you, that if you show any kind of emotion towards me, I will find out your weaknesses and exploit them."

"Something like that."

She took his confirmation exceedingly well, at least for her. He expected some kind of outburst, but she again nodded her head. He could see the wheels turning in her mind and waited to see the outcome of her musings.

"You have complicated my life."

He almost laughed at the simplicity of the statement, but wisely checked himself.

"Ever since I have met you, you have forced me to confront things I've never wished to see. My relationship with my mother is now strained because of her constant over-protection. These past months have been the most tumultuous of my life, and I can't talk about them with anyone. I had never noticed it before, but for whatever reason, perhaps my age, lack of experience, or by virtue of being the princess, I am isolated from the other Amazons. I have no friends, and the one person I have tried so hard to be kind to, the one person who I should consider my enemy, consistently rejects me."

Bruce looked at her warily, unsure of what was expected from him. He decided that maintaining their status quo was safest. "You lead a rough life."

She did not take the bait, but he could tell his words had gotten to her.

"I can't even take comfort in the goodness of my actions toward you, because I have come to the realization that even my attempts aren't enough. Up to this point, I have only been using you to show myself how pious I am. I wanted to demonstrate the superiority of the Amazon way, and I have failed."

Her voice faltered at this point, causing a twinge of guilt to coalesce inside Bruce. In all his dealings with her, he had not once considered how his actions affected her. Or if he had, he quickly dismissed the thoughts, justifying his rudeness with his need to stay safe. To him, she was only an obstacle and nuisance. At best, she was symbolic of everything he wanted, but he had never seen her as a person. And now, witnessing her struggles and seeing for himself just how thoughtful, complex, and above all, noble her heart was, Bruce didn't know what to do or think.

As a result, he had not yet chosen how to react. His face was blank, but that did not stop her. After taking a deep breath, she continued. "Since almost the moment I saw you, I have wanted you to tell me about Man's World. I am so desperate to learn about life off this island, but I have been too proud to actually ask you about it. At first I wouldn't allow myself to do it, because I thought I had so much to teach you, that you couldn't possibly know the things I wanted to learn, but I was wrong. And now, now that I know I could learn from you, I'm afraid to ask, because I do not want to look foolish, and I don't want you to say 'no' to me."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"I do not say this so you will pity me. I don't want your pity. What I do want is to like you and for you to like me...for us to be friends. Because of that, I have shared with you my own struggles and weaknesses." Eyes glittering with unshed tears, Diana raised her chin in defiance, daring him to mock her. "I am now at your mercy, Bruce."

He squirmed, uncomfortable at the intensity of her gaze and the responsibility that came with having her trust him. He wanted to be her friend too; he just couldn't say it. Framing his reply carefully, he said, "What would you like to know about Man's World?"

He watched her shoulders lower as she released the breath she had been holding. "Anything and everything. However, I thought today you could teach me about these."

Diana finally opened her closed fist. In her palm rested two identical flowers. The orange and yellow blossoms were smaller than the flower of yesterday, but equally beautiful.

"It occurred to me that, since you can't leave your portion of the island, there are lots of things on Themyscira you've never seen. I brought two flowers. One for you to tear apart and one for you to keep whole."

Diana motioned for him to hold out his hand, and Bruce reluctantly did so. Placing her free hand under his, she poured the flowers into his palm.

Ignoring the sensations her smile incited, Bruce set one of the flowers aside. The other he began to dissect, explaining to her again what he had said yesterday. Only this time she actually listened, even intently.

When he was finished, he grabbed their English book and began their lessons. About an hour into their session some clouds rolled in, blocking out the moon. The fire provided adequate light by which to read, but Bruce knew they would not be able to be out for much longer. It was going to rain.

Half an hour later, the drops finally started sprinkling from the sky, hissing as they made contact with the flames. Bruce closed the book, tucking it away in his bag. Diana looked over at him, disappointed. She made no move to leave.

"We should head back. It's only going to rain harder," Bruce pointed out as he stood to his feet.

The rain began to fall more steadily, and while neither of them was soaked, they were easily getting there. The fragrance of blossoms saturated the air, and Bruce wondered why he hadn't smelled them earlier. He chalked it up to the rain, which was responsible for much more than the heavenly scent currently enveloping them. Both Bruce's and Diana's clothes began to cling to their bodies, and the urge to stare was savagely beaten down more than once by Bruce. Embarrassed by his thoughts, Bruce averted his eyes, cursing the shimmering drops of water that embellished her neck and shoulders while simultaneously disregarding the fact that the blessed rain was cooling his overheated skin. Walking over to the fire, he systematically began digging up the moist dirt around it, sprinkling it onto the flames before it was extinguished by the rain. While his efforts helped him clear his mind, he needn't have worried that Diana noticed his discomfort. She was oblivious to everything but the flower he had left on the ground. Grabbing it in her hand, she stood up and walked over to him.

"Thanks," he brusquely said, not looking up from his work until he was finished.

Bruce knew what was coming next and steeled himself against the contact. As she placed the flower in his hand, her fingers brushed against his. Instantly, she retracted her hand, eyes widening in shock as she looked at his face. Forgotten, the flower fell back into the mud.

They both knelt down to pick it up, almost hitting heads. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, as he reached for it. "I'll see you tomorrow at practice," she hastily added.

By the time he was standing, she had already flown away.

Confused, Bruce made his way back to his lab as the rain came down harder. Once inside, he washed the specks of dirt the flower had taken on from its tumble. Keeping it firmly in hand, Bruce walked over to his sofa and lay down. Twisting it by its stem, Bruce watched the orange and yellow swirl around as he tried to think of anything but Diana.

Still reeling from the events of the past days, Bruce was on the verge of exhaustion. His eyes quickly drooped, and his hand dropped to his chest, flower still in hand.

* * *

"Master Bruce, wake up."

Bruce sat up with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest. The same nightmare had occurred, only the roles had been reversed. This time, it was Bruce sampling Diana, and Bruce wielding the knife as Diana looked up at him, her eyes full of trust. Raising his hand to his hairline, his fingers felt slick with perspiration.

Blinking once or twice, he realized where he was and just who had awoken him. The two men hadn't spoken since their argument the day Diana infiltrated the cave.

"The usual nightmare, sir?"

Still in a daze, Bruce blurted out, "No. It was about Diana."

"Oh." Alfred's eyes drifted down to Bruce's hand, taking in the now crushed flower. At first, Bruce did not understand the blush that rose on Alfred's cheeks. As shocking as such a reaction was, he wasn't able to enjoy it. His face immediately grew warm as he realized exactly why the normally unflappable Englishman was as red as one of his prized tomatoes.

Before Bruce could say anything, Alfred cleared his throat. "I see. Well, Master Bruce, perhaps it is time we had a discussion." The older man wasn't even looking at him but at some distant point over his shoulder, trying to gain his bearings.

Bruce heard him mutter something about birds and bees, and oddly enough, educated fleas. Alarmed, Bruce spoke out firmly, "No!" Both men were surprised at the younger's outburst. In a quieter voice Bruce mumbled, "It wasn't one of those kinds of dreams."

Alfred could only respond with another, "Oh."

"And I don't need one of those talks."

"Already visited the library?"

Bruce neither confirmed nor denied the butler's assumption. "There_ is_ something I want to talk about, though."

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

Bruce stared down at the crushed flower and almost lost his nerve. He had always told Alfred everything. The only subject off limits was the correctness of his mission, but Bruce was starting to wonder if he needed a second opinion.

"I've been thinking about what you said to me the other day."

"Yes?"

Bruce set the flower down on the couch next to him and dropped his head into his hands, unable to look at Alfred while he unburdened his soul. "I've been thinking that I don't want Joe Chill controlling my life anymore."

He waited a few moments and was surprised that Alfred said nothing. Looking up to his surrogate father for approval, he almost smiled. He had never seen Alfred so happy.

Knowing that he would quickly disappoint the older man, Bruce rushed the following words, "But I still don't know how I can accomplish that without letting my parents down. I don't know how to honor them any other way, and I'm afraid that if I let go of this…obsession, I will forget my parents."

"I know, sir. It is a very difficult situation, and I don't pretend to have all the answers."

While Bruce appreciated Alfred's honesty, it wasn't exactly helpful. "Well, what should I do?"

"I think you should pursue that which makes you happy. And before you object, I would like you to think of what your parents would really want, not what you think you owe them. No parent wants their child to sacrifice themselves for their benefit. They loved you very much, more than anything in the world, and while you are an excellent young man, you are also a very unhappy one. If I were to speculate, I think this is because you view your own happiness as selfishness."

"I don't understand how it can be anything but selfishness," was Bruce's frustrated response.

"Well, sir, you must remember that you are not alone. No man is an island, as it were…I served your parents for years before you were born. Long ago I came to consider them family, and it's been many years since I have come to think of you as my own flesh and blood. Selfishness concerns individuals, but you are part of a family. Your happiness belongs to us as well. How can that which would brings us joy be called selfish?"

The reminder of his parents' and Alfreds' love made Bruce's heart ache. The butler's words were exactly what Bruce wanted to hear, but had always trained himself not to believe. When he was finally able to speak, it felt as if the words were being torn from his chest. "I don't know how to give this up, Alfred. It's been keeping me going for so long."

"Master Bruce, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not something you can just give up. It has taken you over ten years to get to this point; it won't just magically disappear overnight. But I have faith in your tenacity. If you can convince yourself that you aren't doing wrong, gradually you will be able to accept a new life for yourself. The first step will simply be allowing yourself to contemplate that things can be different."

That didn't seem impossible, but he still wasn't sure it was right.

"Before this conversation is over, may I inquire after Miss Diana?"

Bruce nodded grudgingly, accepting the sudden change of subject.

"How are your English lessons coming along?"

"She's learning very quickly. I'm trying to decide which language to teach her next, though it will be a few more months before it comes to that."

"Perhaps Latin."

"Most likely."

"Is there anything else you feel I should know?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes in disbelief, wondering how Alfred could tell he was hiding something. What was even more amazing was that he always told him. "I almost made her cry. Twice in as many days." The raised eyebrow the butler gave him made Bruce feel lower than dirt.

"It wasn't intentional," Bruce said defensively.

"That's a slight improvement. There is hope for you yet."

"And what, may I ask, did you do to offend her?"

"I ripped apart some flower she had picked."

Alfred looked again at the forlorn flower, visibly unimpressed by Bruce's actions. "And is that from Miss Diana?"

Bruce felt himself sinking into the couch. "Yes."

"How kind of her. When I was growing up, it was the man who brought the flowers to the woman. But I suppose this is to be expected; we are living in a matriarchal society after all."

"I hate to disappoint you, Alfred, but Diana has no concept of romance."

"I would not judge her too harshly for that. Neither do you." Alfred laughed. "But I'm sure if you give her enough time, she'll realize you aren't a woman."

"I hope not," Bruce said under his breath, then louder, "She wants to be my friend."

"Very good, sir." Bruce shook his head, amused at the butler's response. As if her request were the most natural thing in the world. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it."

Alfred stood to his feet and looked at Bruce. "Perhaps you would like to sleep in your room instead of on this couch."

Stretching as he stood, Bruce followed Alfred back to their house.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Um, I'm sorry it's taken me forever. I am the ultimate procrastinator, and school just piled up on me. I'm currently enjoying my Christmas break! Anyhoo, as usual, if you have any questions, concerns, critiques, whatever, feel free to leave a review or send a PM. Thanks for reading and sticking with this molasses-like story.

So, I made up a character (technically three). I hope she doesn't seem too plot device-y. She will return, though she isn't a main player in the story, so she won't be a distraction.

I suppose you could say things are getting spicier between Bruce and Diana. I am firmly committed to my T rating, though, so for those who don't read rated M stories, don't worry.

Lastly, the whole Heracles/Amazon thing is from the comics, but from what I've read (from either wikipedia or dcdatabase), it seems the men were only there one night before Heracles was all crazy and gross (understatement, I know). I lengthened the duration of their stay to allow some time for a relationship to bud between Alexandra and Paramonos. Love at first sight is not my 'thang'.

* * *

**"Anonymouse" Review Replies! **(Speaking of mice, did you know you can go to Disneyland/world for free on your birthday in 2009? Thought you'd like to know.)

I have something to say about anonymous reviews: sometimes I miss them, especially when they are posted for earlier chapters and not the latest one I "published". As a result, sometimes I don't always reply to a review. I apologize for when that has happened. I'm not intentionally trying to ignore anyone. It's just oversight.

**LT8**- Hullooo! And here is some more development on the relationship. **:D** LOL, I'm glad about your honesty about why you read the story. And of course there will be a happy ending. I don't write anything but happy endings! Well, some people might not have a happy ending, but the people we care about will. **:D** Thanks for reviewing.

Hi **person**! Nice name, BTW. **:D** Your review made me laugh, because I am so far away from ending this story. It's kind of daunting actually, so I try not to think about it, but I have so much more stuff to add to this. I'm getting slightly impatient with myself for taking so long to actually get back to "plot stuff" rather than "character stuff". Ideally they would occur simultaneously, but I'm still working on that. **:D** Anyhoo, thanks for the review!

**Rocknrollallday**! And party every night! Woo! Thanks for letting me know what you think about the story. I'm glad it's positive! **:D **I hope you like this update, and that it wasn't too slow for you! Have a great day!

**JLfan**- Glad to see you like this story. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and I don't mean that sarcastically. **:D **Yeah, I would have to say BM is my favorite character. I fell in love with him watching those cartoons in the 90s. That's my Batman, though the Christian Bale one is close to my heart as well. And I think Wonder Woman is awesome. I like how virtuous she is. **:D** I can't think of anyone more deserving to be with Bruce than her, and vice versa. Thanks for reviewing!

**Reader101**- I hope you like this new addition of BMWW tension. Sorry it's taken me forever to update. My muse decided to go on vacation in the Harry Potter world. I think she (or he, I haven't decided which gender "it" is) is partially back. **:D** Thanks for reviewing.

**TVWatcher**- Thanks for reading. Writing probably wouldn't be so enjoyable if it weren't for the positive feedback I get from people like you. I'm glad you are finding some humor in the story. Sometimes it seems so serious, I don't want it to buckle under that or take itself (or myself) too seriously. I truly want to explore deep issues, but I don't want to be pretentious or boring about it. Who knows if I'm succeeding, but I hope I'm improving. I hope you like this newest addition.

**DDD**! Sorry, I just had to caps and triple your name (In my head, I say "D-D-D" not "Triple D" just in case you were curious). That's how much I like you, though your d form is lovely as well. **:D **Yeah, I went back and have read the "Bruce Deep Thought" section a few times, and I'm thankful that people read it and got something from it. I know what it's like to be reading a story and think, "WHOA, way too much information. I just want to see the characters together!" and then I'll skip those development parts for where they kiss! Because I'm silly! I hope you are still enjoying the adventures of Alfred the Matchmaker. And I think it's getting to the point where Bruce can't be in denial anymore; he's starting to see Diana as more than a symbol. Actually both B and D are seeing each other as people instead of problems, and I think that's a good thing, because now they will play nice. I hope you enjoyed the various conversations between people in this chapter. I'm slightly nervous at their reception. Thanks, as always, for reviewing!

**Mischief**- Thanks for the fun reviews. They bring a smile to my face. Though it would probably be a disaster for DC, I would love to be appointed to the position of Justice-League Storyboard: Batman & Wonder Woman character-handler. I know which artists I would have illustrate, and I know which storylines I would pursue! Kipling Nori will be my partner in crime, and BMWW goodness would be coming out of everyone's ears. --I'm glad you find the things occurring plausible. Sometimes I wonder, but I tell myself "Well, the characters are young and still not their BM/WW selves, yet." I try not to use that excuse often, though.--Perhaps I didn't need such a violent beginning, but I wanted to engage people's hearts right from the beginning, and there is nothing sadder (for me) than the suffering of good people and injustice going unpunished. Lots of people know the story already, so I was borrowing from the good will Virgil has already created for the Trojans.—I look forward to reading your BMWW stories. I imagine those would make your English teacher proud too. **:D** **–** I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to update. First it was school, then it was writer's block/laziness, then it was me writing in a different fandom. Thanks for patiently waiting and encouraging. Hopefully this wasn't the unlucky 13th chapter (technically, it's chapter 12. Prologues always throw things off!). **:D**

To:**me**! Thanks for reviewing. Here's my update. Sorry it was so long in coming. From: me!

**ALSOaGeekyBMWWFan**- Nice to meet another one! I'm glad I'm not alone! Thanks for the compliment on the cleverness of the new setting. In about 2-3 chapters I'm really going to be shaking things up, and I hope you like the new direction the story will take (I've been planning it from the very beginning). Thanks for reviewing!


	14. Heart of the Matter

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Many thanks are in order! First and foremost, I would like to thank Kipling Nori, my indefatigable beta. I am stocking the enclave library with Fablehaven books. I'm not sure if you will like them, but if not, I will also give you a karaoke machine and disco ball. I miss your stories and wish you would write more. **:D** I also give much props to Hepburn for always encouraging me. Surely that's worth some Green and Black's organic chocolate, no? To Whigmus Lister, thanks for motivating and challenging me with the last chapter. You get a beer. Also, MGD, thank you so very much for enlightening me about all the various methods of ancient divination. I hope what I came up with doesn't disappoint you terribly.

Everyone else, thanks for reading and reviewing and your patience, as always! I will finish this! (Because you deserve it, and because I also really, really want to.)

* * *

**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 13:**

**Heart of the Matter

* * *

**

Bruce reclined against a log, face raised to the stars. For the past month showers had been appearing out of nowhere, and while the sky looked clear, the air was thick with humidity and smelled of coming rain.

The faint crackling of the fire was broken by the crush of leaves underfoot. Diana had arrived.

"Were you followed?" he said.

Her footfalls stopped short of the other side of the log, and the stars were eclipsed by her face. She towered over him from behind, hands on hips. "How many times are you going to ask me that? We've been doing this for how long?" Diana stepped over the log, removing a sack that had been slung across her back and setting it on the ground.

"Three times a week for the past two months, alternating the days we meet every oth—"

Diana raised her hand. "No. I made sure to head towards the opposite side of the island before flying over here, like I've _been_ doing. I was not followed."

She sat down beside him, angling her body so she was facing him, their shoulders and knees nearly touching. "Your lack of faith in me hurts my feelings."

He looked over at her, his face void of expression.

"Smile, Bruce," she said. "I was just kidding. But there is something—"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"I don't need to. We haven't been discovered because we've stuck to the rules. If you came here more often or stayed longer, they would grow suspicious. As it is, you almost ruined things at practice."

Diana stared off into the fire. "You were hurt. What was I supposed to do?"

"Let me lie there, like we agreed. Hippolyta and Antiope won't question you if you pretend not to care."

Diana sighed, but made no argument.

After a few moments of silence, Bruce asked, "Did they say anything to you?"

"I think Antiope thinks something is going on with me, but I doubt she suspects it concerns you. I've been spending more time with another Amazon, and I don't think she likes her."

"Good. Because if she starts to suspect what's going on between us, these meetings will be over."

Diana's eyes widened, her dismay at such a prospect clearly written across her face. Bruce clenched his hand around his bag, annoyed by the twisted sense of pleasure he felt at her reaction.

"That won't be necessary," she quickly said. "I'll be more careful."

Bruce instantly regretted the harshness of his delivery and ultimatum, but he was just as determined to continue their clandestine meetings.

"It's your turn," he said. Diana's worried look morphed into one of confusion and then delight as he pulled out their book from his bag.

"How am I doing?" she asked.

He could have pretended not to understand her, but today he did not feel the need to be intentionally difficult. "Your accent is nearly gone." It was true. In the two months since they had been meeting, her English (the only language he allowed her to speak when they were alone) was nearly perfect. To the untrained ear, it sounded as if it were spoken by one born in his home country. The discovery that he missed her accent more than Gotham was unsettling.

Diana smiled as she opened the book to the fourth chapter. He was just able to hear her mutter, "You don't seem too thrilled about it," under her breath before she took up the tale.

The soft, lilting quality of her voice filled his ears, and he could not figure out why she was so determined to eliminate her Themysciran accent. She had repeatedly asked him to help her, to make her sound like one of "his people," but he had withstood all requests. It had only been the loss of a bet he had been convinced she could not win that had made him relent. As her prize, she got to read one of his books. He had toiled over which one he would have her read, but when she had won, she chose for him: _The Aeneid_.

They had decided to alternate chapters, and he took the first one. Diana's task was to listen to the way he sounded, but she immediately got caught up in the story. That first night of reading, Diana turned towards Bruce as he read about Aeneas and his Trojans being tossed at sea by the anger of Hera. She inched closer to him as Aphrodite, in the guise of a girl hunter, led her son through the woods to the kingdom of Carthage. But it wasn't been until the arrival of Dido, Queen of Carthage, that Diana was truly enthralled. She practically read it over his shoulder, hanging on his every word.

Diana's affinity for Dido was unsurprising to Bruce. The founder of the newly built Carthage was a brilliant and devout woman, likened unto Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Fleeing from her power-hungry brother who had murdered her husband and was now seeking her life, Dido led her people to Africa. Once there, she met with the local leaders and was granted all the land that would fit within an ox's hide. Unfortunately the leaders had not foreseen her tearing the animal skin into thin strips and fashioning a circle many times wider than the original plot.

Report of her ingenuity, beauty, and wealth quickly spread throughout the entire region, and many princes sought her hand in marriage. She refused them all, keeping the promise to her murdered husband that she would never marry again. Her life was devoted to the goddess Hera and to the rule of her nascent city. It was in the temple of Hera that Dido met Aeneas and welcomed him into her kingdom with open arms.

Like all great epics, _The Aeneid_ began in the middle of the action. At a feast thrown by Dido for Aeneas and his Trojans, the soldier recounted the past years of his life, including what had happened at Troy. This took up the bulk of the first few chapters. As they only read one chapter per meeting, Diana was quickly growing impatient for events to turn back to Dido. The recent spate of rain had certainly not helped matters. The last two chapters had been interrupted by the inclement weather, and Diana practically begged to borrow and then threatened to take the book. When he told her it was against the rules, she had come/came dangerously close to throttling him.

So this night, when she was to read the chapter where the action of the story returned to the present, and therefore to Dido, Bruce nearly laughed when the skies began to fill with clouds. "Looks like rain again; we'll just have to wait until next time," he practically gloated, still biting back his laughter as he prepared to stand to his feet. He was stopped by Diana's hand on his knee, then stunned by the mischievous smile she bestowed on him. Producing a tarp from her bag, she hurriedly pitched the shelter over and around the fire and said, "I'm tired of being a slave to the weather."

She moved close to the fire and looked at him expectantly. Silent and obedient, Bruce sat down next to her as the rain started falling. Picking up the book, she opened it to the fourth chapter and began reading. From the first line, Diana seemed on edge.

Dido was seeking the counsel of her sister, Anna, explaining how Aeneas was making it difficult to keep her promise never to marry again. Anna, unaware that Eros had pierced Dido's heart with his arrow, encouraged Dido to pursue Aeneas regardless, that Dido shouldn't waste away after her lost first love, that an alliance with the Trojan hero would only ensure the greatness of Carthage.

As she kept reading, Diana sometimes glanced up at him, and Bruce knew she was trying to see his response to what was happening between Dido and Aeneas. He gave her no indication of what he was thinking, just stared back at her. At one point Diana even stopped and asked, "Am I going to like what's about to happen?"

He knew the answer was "no." He said, "How should I know?"

"You should know me well enough by now to answer the question."

"Patience, Princess."

After giving him a glare, she went back to reading.

While Aeneas and Dido were spending more and more time together, Aphrodite and Hera were working against each other on behalf of their personal favorites. Hating the Trojans and Aeneas as she did, Hera wanted Aeneas to marry Dido. Such an event would ensure he never left Carthage and therefore, would never found Rome. Though Aphrodite saw through Hera's plans, she played along for the time being.

The raindrops splattered heavily on the tarp above their heads as Dido descended into a haze of lust for Aeneas. Without their queen, who was too preoccupied with Aeneas, the people of Carthage did not know what to do; the once thriving city came to a standstill.

As the tension between Dido and Aeneas came to a head, the rain pelted the ground viciously, and Diana unconsciously leaned in closer to Bruce. Already too warm himself, the added heat pulled at his fraying attention. Bruce did not listen to Virgil recount how Aeneas and Dido were separated from their hunting parties by a great storm, nor how they were driven into a cave to wait out the torrent. It barely registered that in darkness, Aeneas finally gave in to his desires, sleeping with Dido for what would be the first of many times. All Bruce could hear was the throaty and breathless voice of the woman beside him, slowly driving him insane. He swallowed, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly as she paused in her reading. She looked up at him, and when their eyes met, he could see hers were wide and filled with confusion. He nearly gave in, almost leaning forward with his gaze firmly fixed on her lips, but an incandescent flash of lightning and the crackle of thunder brought him back to his senses.

"Keep reading," he ordered, wrenching his gaze from hers.

For Bruce, the torture seemed endless. Virgil went on and on, describing the enslaving passion that burned inside both Aeneas and Dido and the resulting damaged it caused. Aeneas and Dido no longer cared about their good names, but were openly and wantonly displaying their romance for all to see. A prince who had formerly sought Dido's hand in marriage caught wind of how she was sleeping with Aeneas. Enraged by her preference for the other man, the prince swore war on her people. Her subjects weren't all that pleased with her behavior either.

Finally the god Hermes was called upon by Zeus to intervene, to remind Aeneas what he owed to his son and his people. Once told, Aeneas knew he had to leave. He tried to communicate to Dido that he cared for her, that only the command of the gods and his duty kept him from her, but she would not listen. With a heavy heart, he prepared his ships to sail toward Latium, while Dido began some preparations of her own.

Convinced that she had ruined her life, disgraced herself and her dead husband, Dido abandoned her people one last time. Crawling into the bed she had shared with Aeneas, she sobbed out her ruin and heartache before falling on his sword. But even there, her suffering had not reached its completion. It was not her time to die and so she lay there, mortally wounded, seeking death without obtaining release.

Seeing her agony, Hera took pity on her, sending the goddess Iris to release the queen's spirit. And with that, Dido's life came to a close.

When she had finished the last sentence, Diana looked over at Bruce, shell-shocked. Then her eyes narrowed, full of accusation.

"What?!" he asked irritably.

"That was horrible! How could he leave her like that?"

"He had a duty to his son and to the future of Rome."

Diana snapped the book shut and flung it to the ground. "He ruined her."

"No. Aphrodite and Hera did."

"That is not the Aphrodite I know."

"You do realize this is just a story, right? Carthage was one of Rome's rivals; they fought the Punic Wars against each other. Virgil was only trying to give an ancient reason for their hatred."

"In that case, it was not the goddess's fault. It was the imagination of some _man_."

"Would you rather Aeneas had stayed behind and broken his promise to Creusa? Been selfish and lost sight of what he owed to his people?"

"Of course not! But his treatment of Dido was appalling. Even if Dido was under some spell, he was not. _He_ could have controlled himself."

"I agree, that's what he should have done, but he made a mistake. Mortals tend to do that."

"His mistake cost Dido her life."

"Perhaps your people are right: men and women should go nowhere near each other" He hoped the flat delivery of his words hid the curiosity driving the statement.

Diana paused, and he could see her mulling over her next words. "No, but they should never fall in love. Every story I've heard where they do ends terribly."

Bruce was inclined to agree with her, but knew that her remedy to the problem was impossible. If anyone could have withstood the snares of love, he knew it was him, but he had failed long ago. Pushing aside the regret and melancholy her words produced, Bruce said, "What other stories have you heard?"

His quiet question was ignored. Diana shook her head, still livid. "I cannot believe what happened to her. To go from being like Artemis to salivating over some man like a dog. It's a disgrace."

Bruce picked the book up from the ground, brushing the dirt off of it. "Perhaps we shouldn't read this anymore."

She didn't answer him.

"If it makes you feel better, Hera continued to hate him for what happened to Dido, and she stirred up trouble for him in Italy too."

Diana didn't even seem to be listening to him anymore. "I still have no idea why she would kill herself over him, or even be with him. No wonder Virgil kept calling their relationship a disease."

"You liked the scene between Aeneas and his wife Creusa," he said in a voice louder than usual. The anger he heard upset him. He was not allowed to convince her to want what he wanted.

Diana started at his words. She looked ready to deny it, but instead she muttered, "That was different."

"Why? Their story didn't end so happily either."

"I don't need a happy ending, Bruce. I need heroes to live honorably and to put others before themselves. I liked Creusa and Aeneas because, while they loved each other, they did not forget their responsibility to their country and to their family. That makes sense to me. What happened between Dido and Aeneas…" Diana let the words trail off as she looked away from him, but he caught a glimpse of why she was reacting so strongly: she was scared.

Diana lay back on the ground, staring up at the tarp. The rain continued to fall around them, but softer now, its sound against their shelter filling the silence between them.

"Bruce, do you think it's possible for love and duty to coexist?"

Not waiting for an answer, she shifted to her side and looked over at him. "You have had more opportunity to see how men and women interact, living in Man's World. What are the relationships like there?"

The only romantic relationship Bruce really knew about was the one between his parents. While he refused to let himself think of those happier times, he was convinced his parents had the perfect marriage. But there was no way he could share something that precious with her.

"I was nine when I came here. I wasn't exactly paying attention to those kinds of things."

"But what about your parents?"

He stirred the fire, ignoring the curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Diana rolled on to her back again, releasing a small huff.

"Bruce, would you keep reading? I want to know what happens next."

"You finished the chapter; you should be heading back."

Diana waved her hand in dismissal. Bruce quirked an eyebrow at her royal gesture, but picked up the book. They still had a few minutes to spare.

Diana turned onto her side again, her face resting on the arm she had stretched over her head. While he kept his gaze glued fast to the book, out of the corner of his eye he could see her head droop occasionally. When the Trojans landed in Italy, Bruce finally stole a glance at her. Her face was partially obscured by the curtain of her hair, but he could see her slightly open mouth.

"Diana?"

Nothing.

Setting the book down, Bruce knelt by the princess. Tentatively, he reached out his hand, trailing a finger along a stray lock of her hair. When she didn't move, he released a sigh, unaware till then that he had temporarily stopped breathing. The black strands were soft to his touch, just as they were in his dreams of her. Slowly, he brushed away the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Seeing she made no reaction, his finger traveled down the curve of her jaw. He stopped at her chin, but wanted to touch her mouth like he had so often in his sleep. Her lips were less than an inch away, but something held him back.

A soft "hmmm" escaped the princess's mouth, and she nestled her face farther into her arm. The movement startled Bruce, and he snatched his hand away. He quickly moved away from her, sitting down hard on the ground, fists at his sides.

A few moments later, Diana stirred. "How long have I been out?" she asked, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Not long."

"You should have woken me." The stern command lost some of its potency when she yawned loudly. Grinning sheepishly, she said, "Maybe we should call it a night."

Bruce nodded his head in agreement, remaining seated as Diana crawled out from under the tarp.

"You're staying here?" she asked, letting out another small yawn.

"No." He moved to get up, and Diana extended her hand. He looked at it warily for a moment, but gave in, putting his fingers in hers. Her eyes suddenly looked alert and awake, and he almost felt her let go. He watched the long, white column of her throat as she swallowed, but her hand wrapped around his tightly and she tugged him to a standing position.

"Do you want to stay and help you...?" Her voice trailed off, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had the same effect on her as she did on him. But then she looked down at their joined hands. He had not let go.

Embarrassed, he took a step back and dropped her hand, then looked at the shelter. "I'll be fine," he said.

"Are you sure you--"

"I'll be fine."

A few seconds passed before she said, "Well, goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

He could hear her fly away, but he forced himself not to watch her retreating form. Instead, he contented himself with tearing down the makeshift tent. Still unsatisfied, he sat amid the fallen tarp and watched the fire burn until it eventually died out, choked by the relentless drizzle of the rain.

* * *

Ever since that first practice when Bruce had thrown Diana to the ground, Hippolyta had been gradually restricting the number of people who could attend the sessions between the princess and man. It had gotten to the point where Antiope was the only other person besides Hippolyta allowed to come. Because of this, she was the only other witness to the training incident that occurred nearly two weeks ago.

Diana had laid Bruce flat on the dirt with a too powerful punch to his face. He struggled to get up from the ground, and blood dripped from his mouth. Antiope drew her lips into a firm line, forcing herself not to smile as Diana stooped down beside him. But then Diana gently took his jaw in her hand instead of attacking him further. At least Bruce had the proper reaction. He glared at her, and she immediately dropped her hand and stood up, but there was no mistaking the care written across Diana's face. Hippolyta had seen it too, but when Antiope brought it up later, the queen buried it.

She had not been invited back to their practices after that, and Antiope was reaching her wit's end.

Standing at before the temple of the Oracle, the general stared straight ahead into its dark doorway. The staircase, painstakingly carved into the mountain's side, was wide at its base, growing narrower with each step. Torches on either side illuminated the path, which led to the entrance at the top of the stairs. She knew that just inside soldiers stood guard.

While the Court of Temples gleamed in the center of the city, the Oracle was hidden deep in the ancient stone. Even though it was not a far walk from the palace, just on the other side of the mountain top, it was not a trip Antiope often made. In fact, she had only taken it one other time since the relocation to the island. It had been ages ago; the Amazons had not even been on the island for a century.

Antiope had wanted to fight against the Greeks in the Trojan War; Hippolyta did not. After years of debating, the queen and general reached a stalemate. In an attempt to end their disagreement, it was decided that a visit to the Oracle was in order. That day, she followed Hippolyta into the cold damp of the cave, followed herself by their youngest sister, Penthesilea.

Unlike Apollo's temple, there was no human oracle, though the prophecies of both were easily subject to multiple and muddled interpretations. Because of the high probability of misunderstanding inherent in this method of divination, the sisters had agreed to only use it in the direst of circumstances. The Trojan War had already been raging for nine years, and there were winds that it would soon be coming to an end. According to reports, the Trojans were winning. Because of this, Hippolyta did not see the need to join them; Antiope, however, wanted to help drive the dagger into the Greeks' hearts.

Truthfully, Antiope could not have cared less about the Trojans. They were merely a means to an end. During those horrid days when Heracles dwelled among them, she had heard tales of his exploits in Troy and with numerous women. If he were still alive (which wasn't too outlandish; he was half-god), there was no question in her mind she would find him there. And if not him, some of his bastard sons would surely be amongst the soldiers. In some way, his blood would be spilt by her hands. And not by her hands only. Her regiment was replete with hundreds, if not thousands, of Amazons thirsty for revenge.

Staring up at the Oracle, Antiope shivered, remembering the dark and the cold, the almost claustrophobic feel of the narrow hall that opened into the temple proper. The gigantic cavern was hewn out of the rock, and in the center was a platform of increasingly smaller circles stacked atop one another with the bigger circles acting as steps. On top of the last circle was a large bowl many feet wide, which came up to Antiope's stomach when she stood on the last step. It was made of gold and amethyst, the only real ornamentation in the room. Even in the dim light, the jewels and precious metal sparkled. Antiope was not one to appreciate beauty, but even she had been struck by its craftsmanship.

The only illumination came from a tiny sphere of flame suspended high above the cavern. It burned perpetually, aided by no human hand; it was the gift of Hestia, goddess of the sacred fire.

After Hippolyta had dismissed the soldiers, a veiled priestess led them up the stairs. The four of them surrounded the empty bowl, Hippolyta across from her, the priestess and Penthesilea at her sides. Anticipation clawed at Antiope's insides as Hippolyta poured the blood-red wine into the basin. Though there were no openings in the bowl, the garnet colored drink disappeared, quickly replaced by crystal clear water. While she did not know its origin, Antiope speculated it came from the sacred spring that fed the hot and cold rivers that flanked the city. The bowl soon filled, and the warm water trickled over its sides, skimming down the stone circles and onto their feet before being soaked back into earth.

At first nothing happened, and all Antiope saw were their reflections backlit by a glowing ball. Then the sphere began to lower. They all unconsciously backed away as it settled on the surface of the water. While there was no hiss or sizzle of evaporation, tendrils of steam crawled upward, visibly wafted by the currents of wind swirling in the cave. The air became thick and sweet, steeped in the scent of peonies. Then the flame rose again, stretching in all directions until it became a perfect circle of gold. Antiope looked through it, expecting to see Hippolyta on the other side. Instead, she saw images of another place flicker in and out of being before the circle changed its orientation. Its face was now parallel to the floor, projecting flashes of the future onto the surface of the water.

There were glimpses of intense fighting, fearsome soldiers engaged in deadly combat. Most were men, but a few were Amazons. Occasionally the fighting would stop, and Antiope would see women watching from the city wall, holding their young ones close as they rocked them to sleep. Sometimes they tearfully greeted their husbands who returned from the day's battles. Other times, she saw women gather around and comfort those whose husbands would never return. A smug smile settled on her mouth when she saw the Trojans singing as they toasted victory. But the scene changed once again. Antiope was gazing at her own reflection, only it was contorted in agony. Her face was smeared with blood. Flame and smoke billowed high behind her. Then the image disappeared, and the waters turned black.

The sphere condensed, lowering again to the water's surface. This time it evaporated the water before it climbed to its original location. Antiope couldn't remember if the air stopped smelling of flowers. No one said a word as the priestess led them to the temple's entrance and bade them farewell.

The three sisters made their way back to the palace in continued silence. Antiope used the quiet to mentally prepare for the upcoming battle. They door to the throne room had barely shut when Hippolyta finally spoke, "I think that settles it."

"I agree. I will depart with the soldiers at dawn tomorrow," Antiope answered.

Both the queen and Penthesilea stared at her in disbelief. "Exactly what vision did you see, Antiope?" the youngest cried.

"I saw the Amazons fighting alongside the Trojans. That means we are supposed to be there."

"Why are you choosing to ignore the last scene?"

"I am not ignoring it. Suffering is to be expected. I am going to war, not the theater. There will be casualties, which I will naturally mourn."

Hippolyta glared at her, but Penthesilea shook her head sadly as she spoke, "Always so stubborn and dismissive. How can you be sure that only your suffering is foretold? Those images are selective and do not show the whole picture. It is highly possible you will die. Why else would the Oracle show only you? It must be some kind of message, some warning that you should not go."

"It also showed the Trojans toasting victory. Whether I live or die, the Greeks will be conquered, and that is all that matters. Besides, I have no intention of living forever, whatever the goddesses think. I am an Amazon. Death does not frighten me, so long as I take down as many enemies as possible with me. How can you not understand this?"

"There is absolutely no reason for us to enter this war," Hippolyta said.

"To die gloriously in battle is a noble end. Certainly more honorable than being a watchdog for the goddesses till the end of time."

The queen shook her head in disapproval. "That is now our purpose in life."

If Hippolyta believed she deserved that punishment, so be it. But Antiope would not let the queen's guilt stop her. Trying to hide her disgust, Antiope said, "You may not think so, but there are plenty of Amazons who see differently. We are supposed to be there, not here! Otherwise the Oracle would not have shown us fighting in Troy."

Hippolyta sighed, sinking down onto her throne seat.

Antiope could feel her sister giving in and pressed her advantage. "You needn't go, Hippolyta, if you cannot stomach it. I will gladly lead any contingent you send."

The queen's head snapped up. "I am not as stupid as you think. You care nothing for the Trojans. It's been almost one hundred years since Heracles. The Greeks have nothing to do with him. What can you possibly hope to gain?"

The mention of his name was like ice through her veins. She glanced over at Penthesilea, whose head hung with shame. Using her anger to fight against the wave of powerlessness, Antiope answered, "My pride. I am a soldier. I was born to fight, not sit here and do nothing."

Their eyes met, and she could see but not understand the pity in Hippolyta's eyes. Antiope needed no one's pity, but did not care so long as she could fight.

"And there is nothing that will change your mind?" the queen asked.

"I am determined to leave as soon as possible."

"Alright. Tomorrow night we will hold the sacrifices, and the day after you will set sail with all willing soldiers for Troy."

Antiope bowed her head stiffly. "I will begin preparations first thing tomorrow." Then she left.

She had not been alone in her room for long when Penthesilea walked in, two goblets in hand. Setting the drinks down, she sat on the bed and watched as Antiope paced the room.

"Sister, please reconsider."

"There is nothing to consider. Have we not discussed this day for years? I thought you of all people would understand."

"That was before I saw the vision. Your life is worth more than the deaths of all our enemies."

Antiope's face softened at the concern on Penthesilea's face, "Spoken like a sister, not like a soldier. No matter the outcome, I welcome my fate and you must too. Anything is better than staying here. You know that would destroy me more than any of man's arrows or swords."

Penthesilea's eyes glowed with unshed tears, but she nodded her assent. "Together we will once again show the world that the Amazons are to be feared." Reaching for the goblets, Penthesilea handed one to Antiope.

The general raised her glass in the air. "A toast. To the good name of the Amazons."

"To the Amazons."

They clinked their glasses together and quickly downed the liquid.

Antiope hadn't known her wine was laced with a sedative. By the time she woke up the next day, it was well past noon and the ships had already sailed.

Upon this discovery, Antiope's arguments against the queen had been fierce. Why had Hippolyta not let her go? How could she have let Penthesilea go by herself? Why had Hippolyta not offered to go in their youngest sister's stead or at the very least, with her?

The queen's answers about needing Antiope's leadership on the island did not satisfy, and it was then that Antiope first started questioning Hippolyta's suitability as ruler of the Amazons. But it was not until news of Penthesilea's death arrived that Antiope began to hate her.

When the ships that escaped Troy finally returned with her sister's body, there were far fewer soldiers that returned than left. At least alive. Those bodies that could be found were kept below deck. They all got to work, bringing the fallen off the ships and preparing the pyres.

A small contingent of soldiers made their way to Antiope and Hippolyta, carrying a litter covered with purple. They lowered the cargo down, slowly rolling back the purple sheet. They stopped at Penthesilea's shoulders, and Antiope almost started crying.

Even in death Penthesilea was beautiful. Her black hair framed her face, making her bloodless skin look impossibly pale. The soldiers had done a good job of cleaning her up, but Antiope could see the bruises and cuts all over her skin. She pulled the sheet even further down and gasped at all the injuries, not understanding how she could have incurred such wounds.

Antiope caught snatches of the conversation Hippolyta and the soldiers were having about Penthesilea's death. She had been successful in battle, helping the Trojans immensely after their hero Hector had been killed. She had been so successful, in fact, she attracted the attention of the Greek's greatest fighter, Achilles. He engaged her in battle, and though she had fought valiantly, she was no match for the invulnerable demigod.

The soldiers lowered their voices to a whisper, but she could still hear them as they continued their tale. It was unsurprising that Achilles stripped Penthesilea of her armor. That was common. What horrified Antiope was what happened next. After removing her sister's helmet and looking upon her face, the soldiers said Achilles fell in love with Penthesilea and kept her body. One of his fellow soldiers mocked him for this, and Achilles killed him in rage. His actions set off a war within his own camp, and a relative of the slain soldier took Penthesilea's body and dragged it behind his chariot before throwing her in a river. The very thought that Antiope owed Achilles for rescuing her sister's body from the waters made her feel physically ill. He had almost not returned it.

Too shocked to do anything, Antiope had stood and stared as Hippolyta laid a kiss on Penthesilea's forehead before covering her once again with the sheet. It wasn't until hours later that Antiope saw her again. She lay atop her own pyre, golden armor gleaming in the sunlight. As the flames began to take her beloved sister, something within Antiope broke.

The stench of the burning bodies filled the air, and Antiope began clawing at her arms and hair, heedless of the blood, heedless of anything but loss and guilt. Penthesiliea was the most beautiful of them all, the kindest and bravest. So righteous and pure. The best. It should have been her in the fire, not Penthesilea.

If only she had gone instead, none of this would have happened.

It was in that moment Antiope realized this was the scene that had appeared in the Oracle's waters. Penthesilea had done nothing to change that future or protect Antiope. She had walked straight into her own death. Foolish, stupid girl!

There would come a time when she would consult the Oracle again, but it would not be tonight. The current situation, though hateful, was not that dire and she was not that desperate.

Yet.

Antiope kicked at the dirt and watched as the thin film of dust settled over her sandals. The grit between her toes bothered her every step back to the palace.

How could Hippolyta not worry about Diana and Bruce? Looking back now, Antiope could see all the ways the queen had messed up. She had obviously not warned Diana strenuously enough about the deceitfulness of men. Without such safeguards it was inevitable that the naïve girl would be ensnared by Bruce's schemes.

She could almost pity Diana and Hippolyta, but she had learned to shut out that kind of weakness from her heart for good. It was difficult sometimes, especially where Diana was concerned. She looked so much like Penthesilea, it was often physically painful for Antiope to even look at her. Hippolyta had obviously been thinking about their lost sister when she was sculpting Diana. It had been so tempting to welcome Diana with open arms, take her under her wings. Blessed by the gods, Diana was more than Penthesilea had ever been, but Antiope could see glimpses of her dear sister in Diana's looks, character, and personality. It could make her heart ache if she let it, but she never did. Love and trust had ruined her, and she refused to be fooled again.

No, her anger at the situation with Bruce couldn't be personal. It had to be bigger than her own grievances, great as they were. It had to be about Themyscira and the Amazons. That is where Penthesilea had gone wrong. She had let sisterly love cloud her judgment, just like Hippolyta was making the same mistake with her daughter. And before long, there was no doubt that Diana would allow affection for the man to lead them all to their ruin.

But the situation was so complex, Antiope did not know what to do. Body and mind worn down with anxiety and frustration, the general pushed open the door to her receiving room.

To her surprise, her soldiers were standing there, talking amongst themselves.

As soon as she walked in, they stopped speaking. Lining up in a straight row in front of her, they waited for her to say something.

"Yes?" Antiope said.

Taking in their silence, Antiope shifted her gaze from each woman. They would not look at her. "I see. You are upset by Hippolyta's restrictions."

One of the newest additions to her circle, Prokris, stepped forward. Antiope was not sure how much she could trust her, but there was no questioning her drive and anger. She had been included so Antiope could keep an eye on her. "General, there is great unrest, not only amongst us but the other Amazons."

"You have not told them about the man, have you?"

"Of course not. You specifically ordered us not to speak about Bruce to anyone. When I speak of unrest, I am referring to your sister's handling of Heracles and the Trojan War. It has left a bad taste in their mouths which thousands of years have done little to remove. And if the other Amazons were to find out about Bruce, I have no doubt we could stir up enough women to depose her."

Antiope watched Prokris as she spoke. Like all the others, her face reminded Antiope of her own: bitter and frustrated.

The general chose her words carefully, not wishing to incite her followers. "While I think she's a terrible queen, Hippolyta is still my sister."

"Family should not come before country."

"It is not that simple, Prokris. Have you not learned the lessons from Man's World? Agamemnon, Oedipus, Orestes, Tantalus. Need I go on?"

"That's different."

"I see no difference. Those men murdered their relatives and were punished severely for their impiety. We are Amazons, we do things differently/will not stoop to their level?."

"You needn't kill her. You could keep her imprisoned below in—"

"I will not dethrone my sister. If the position of queen is to have any authority, we must obey her, no matter how much we disagree. The only way I will be queen is if the decree comes down from a goddess, just as it did with my sister."

"Why do you need approval from the goddesses? Their blessing has not helped Hippolyta to be a better leader. Even you agree with that."

"I do not deny that. However, I must look out for Themyscira's best interest even if you will not. We have had enough upheaval in our history. If I undermine our ruling institution, there will be complete anarchy. I must win over all the Amazons, and I cannot do this if they think I am selfishly grabbing for power. They must see that I am acting for our protection"

"And they would if you would just tell them about Bruce."

Antiope could see the other soldiers' shift around. It was time to exert herself before they began questioning her too.

"No. If you cannot acce--"

"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" Prokris threw her hands in the air and looked at her fellow soldiers. When they did nothing, her eyes flashed. "You are all cowards, traitors to our principles. If you will not say anything, I will."

The room filled with silence, and all the women looked at Prokris. It was obvious she regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but Prokris held Antiope's cold gaze. The general had seen it before. Caught in her pride, Prokris would not back down, even though she was wrong.

Two of the women stepped towards Prokris, but Antiope calmly waved the soldiers off. Prokris' shoulders slumped, but her relief was short-lived. Before Prokris could blink, Antiope's fingers were wrapped around her throat.

"I have _always_ done what is in the best interest of Themyscira. What have you ever sacrificed for the cause of the Amazons? I have lost my innocence, my sister, my chance for revenge, all to keep our country from falling apart, so do not lecture me about bravery and patriotism." She could feel Prokris' hands clawing at her arm, trying to pull it away from her neck. "And what is your opinion worth? Nothing. I see the way you look at the man, slobbering and lusting like a dog in heat. No doubt he is the only reason you are concerned about missing his practices. But I suppose that is to be expected; after all, your whoring around with Heracles' soldiers before they attacked us is common knowledge." Antiope squeezed harder, watching the woman's eyes begin to water before finally shoving her away. "You probably even enjoyed that too." Prokris fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

Turning her back to her soldiers, Antiope calmly said, "Does anyone else share Prokris' sentiments?" She made sure to stare at the two other soldiers she had seen looking at Bruce with more than an appreciative eye. Every last one of her soldiers gazed straight ahead, making no objections.

"Good. Themyscira is already fractured enough. _If_ the time comes where I must rule, I will be able to face the Amazons and honestly say I exhausted every possible option. Until then, I want you to keep an eye on Diana, is that understood?"

"Yes, General," the soldiers answered in unison before filing out of her room.

Still on edge, Antiope grit her teeth at the sound of wheezing issuing forth from the disgrace behind her.

"I'm sorry, General. Please forgive my fooli--"

Antiope turned and looked at Prokris, feeling the rage slowly returning. "Your help is no longer required. Get out."

The woman scrambled to her feet and rushed out the door, eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

Now alone in her room, Antiope restlessly paced the floor.

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**To Be Continued

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**

**Anonymous Review Reply:**

**D**- Of course I like you. How could I not? **:D**

I like that you appreciate the importance of having them (B/D) see each other as people. For me, knowledge precedes love. A lot of times people fall in love or hate with images they have of another person instead of the actual person. I find this sad and unromantic on many levels. To be unknown by the person who is supposed to love you the most seems tragic. I didn't want it to be a mistake these two made along their journey of luv, not that they are in love yet. Almost, but not yet.

Thanks for liking Alexandra. I didn't want all the Amazons to come across as these man-haters. Then Bruce would be right for disliking all of them. I also needed her to perform a certain function in the story, though I tried to make her a character of her own, with her own backstory. She will be back. I don't know if Para/Alex is a foreshadowing of what will happen with B/D, but because of her life experience, Alex will be able to give advice to Diana in the future. My "vision" of Diana is one of a trusting character, who wants to seek out advice and wisdom from others, so she can do what is right. Normally, she would turn to her mother, but she can't in this instance. She needs an Alex.

I saved the tucking of something behind Diana's ear for this chapter. You must have been anticipating it. **:D** I'm kind of surprised at the semi-restraint I've been exercising. I want them to be kissing, darn it! In any case, I'm glad you didn't find it cheesy. I've read some of my old stuff, and it's definitely cheesy. I'm hoping that I'm growing past that.

Bruce's dreams. Basically, with Bruce and Diana I had two ways of looking at life going on. To put it poorly, it is the science vs. faith approach. Bruce must tear things down to accept and understand them. Diana accepts them at face value, even if she doesn't understand them fully, and gradually learns things that way. While Diana comes around to see some value in Bruce's method (why she brings him two flowers, one to dissect, the other to keep), Bruce is a bit slower. Both ways have their merits and should be used together, however, I more readily see drawbacks to Bruce's approach. As Diana pointed out, once you take a flower apart, it really isn't a flower anymore. There is something lost in a kind of acquisition of knowledge that is purely for the sake of classifying and knowing, but not for appreciating. Bruce has to have control all the time, and he gets that with his ability to dissect and keep himself an outside observer. But he always remains outside. Anyway, in his dream, the tables are turned. I think there is guilt manifesting itself there, and perhaps a realization that you can't treat people like lab rats. And yeah, some of his desire for her was coming out. Of course. **:D **I think other fears possibly addressed by the dream are Bruce seeing himself figured out by Diana and her inability to see anything inside of him ("I do not see anything. Perhaps I didn't go deep enough."). He must put on a kind of emotional front, but I think he wants her to know that there is more to him than the cold shell he presents her. When she talks about the flower in the previous section, she asks, "Haven't you ever seen something so lovely you just had to wonder at it? Something that inspired you to create something beautiful, or to become beautiful too?". He can't answer that question, but the answer is of course, YES! Every time he sees her...I wasn't aware of this until now, but having this lesson come in the form of a dream is kind of ironic. The Bruce-approach wouldn't accept accept dreams as reflections of reality, only reflections of one's personal desires or maybe what they ate before going to sleep. Wow, I talked a lot.

Alfred is Bruce's Yenta. Thanks, as always, for reviewing!

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**Very lengthy author notes:**

Hi again!

A few explanations of things going on.

I'm not sure what I think about the whole Oracle thing. Due to the help of **MGD**, I have learned a bunch about the different ways the Greeks/Romans believed they could divine the future. My version isn't really based in any kind of historical tradition. It does share one thing in common: vagueness. I went with something that was fun for me to describe and again, subject to misinterpretation.

I had Hestia kind of be guardian of the temple, because there is a tenuous link between her and Apollo, who is associated with the Oracle at Delphi. I found this on the web, taken from some ancient Greek literature…"Hestia, you who tend the holy house of the lord Apollon, the Far-shooter at goodly Pytho, with soft oil dripping ever from your locks, come now into this house, come, having one mind with Zeus the all-wise--draw near, and withal bestow grace upon my song." With that connection to Apollo and "all-wise" Zeus, I thought her ideal for the position. The idea of the golden circle kind of comes from that Superman/Batman/Supergirl story that was illustrated by Michael Turner.

As for the images in the Oracle. The Trojans celebrating comes from the first chapter of this whole story, when they initially thought they had won. In the Iliad there were descriptions of fighting, but also of sweet family interludes, particularly between Hector and Andromache. So I included that. As for the type of combat that was going on, I have it in my head that there were a lot of one-on-one fights instead of soldiers going at each other all at once. That's the impression I get from reading the Iliad, and I think I heard it from one of my profs in college. If I'm wrong,** MGD** will hopefully enlighten us. **;D**

I don't know if I explained the stone platform in the cave, but I imagine it almost like a Devo hat, but cooler looking. Much cooler. **:D**

Agamemnon, Oedipus, Orestes, Tantalus. I am of the opinion that Oedipus and Orestes weren't that bad, but I doubt Antiope would view them in a really gracious light. In any case, all these guys have killed/murdered a relative. Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter (Iphigenia) on his way to the Trojan War. This naturally ticked off his wife, Clytemnestra, who murdered him (and Cassandra, the prophetess from my Prologue) when he returned triumphant from the Trojan War. Orestes was Agamemnon and Clytemnestra's son. He murdered his mom and her adulterous lover for what they did to his father. I think everyone knows about Oedipus. Tantalus served his son up as a main entrée to the gods. He had a famous punishment devised for him. Look it up; his name is where the word tantalizing comes from. These guys are all related (not necessarily by blood) to each other in some way. It's all very sordid. And who said Greek mythology was boring?!

Penthesilea- I made her to look like Diana, but the other stuff isn't really made up. I took the info from Wikipedia. I think the only difference is that I had her body returned to Themyscira. There are accounts that Achilles fell in love with her after killing her. Go figure.

A lot of this chapter was set in the past. I hope it wasn't confusing and you could tell what was taking place in the present and what was taking place in the past. I am working from the assumption that Virgil isn't just making up a story. The Aeneid is real within this story, even if Bruce and Diana don't yet know it. As always, if you have any questions or comments, feel free to drop me a line. I will respond whenever I have the time.

Please review. I like them.


	15. Revelations

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Many thanks to my brilliant, long-suffering beta, KiplingNori. Also must mention Hepburn and Whigmus Lister for their encouragements and advice. A round of drinks for everyone!

Thanks for reading!

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**Stranger in Paradise**

**Chapter 14:**

**Revelations**

* * *

As was her habit, Hippolyta said her prayers the minute she finished making her bed. She bowed before her altar, the movement made natural over the passing millennia. Everything about the ritual was familiar, which made the subject of her requests stand out all the more.

Bruce had been the topic of her prayers before, but all her petitions had been denied. She did not know if it was the way she was asking, or whether it was _what_ she was asking that the goddesses disliked.

She had done everything in her power to keep Diana from learning about Man's World. That had not worked. She had hoped Bruce and Diana would never cross paths. That had failed. She now wondered if it was even worth praying that Diana would not like him. From the day Athena visited the island, Hippolyta sensed the boy was destined for her daughter. If it was what the Fates wanted, how could she stand in the way?

In spite of all this, she couldn't resign herself to the prospect of having Bruce as her son-in-law.

It was not that she herself disliked Bruce as a person. Truthfully, he seemed decent enough. Perhaps a bit too cold and unemotional, but given what little she knew of his past, it was understandable. He was certainly a good soldier, and she could respect him for that. But the very things that made him an excellent warrior were the same things that made him a bad match for her daughter. And this wasn't even taking into consideration that he might be the Greek heir who seemed cursed to fight against the Trojans and presumably their allies.

There was no doubt in her mind Bruce was attracted to her daughter, even though he never showed it. She knew how men worked. Even if he did not like her daughter, he was at least aware Diana was beautiful. But Diana deserved something more than being appreciated for the way she looked. Diana deserved someone who could treasure all the facets of her spirited personality, someone who would be open and trusting with her. Hippolyta sincerely doubted Bruce was capable of such sensitivity.

Just a few weeks ago, she would have been able to shrug off her concerns. There was nothing to indicate Diana was interested in Bruce. And really, it had just been one slip. But injuries during sparring sessions were routine, and Bruce's bloodied lip did not merit having his face cradled between Diana's hands, no matter how caring a heart her daughter possessed.

It was only a small touch, immediately retracted. His angry glare was exactly the kind of thing her daughter's kindness did not deserve, and yet Hippolyta was grateful for it. But even the smallest of caresses was still a caress, and once planted in the queen's brain, suspicion blossomed. She began to question everything. Why had Diana improved against Bruce so quickly? Why had she even felt comfortable enough around him to commit that act of concern? Why would he not accept it? Was it all some act put on for her benefit?

The worst part was knowing that in the past she could have just asked Diana these questions and received an honest answer. Now it seemed they were both keeping secrets from each other. Things had changed between them, and Diana had taken to spending time with Alexandra. Hippolyta was jealous and hurt, even though she was aware she was partly to blame.

As she bared her heart and conscience before the goddesses, she could not dismiss the idea that it was she who needed to repair the breach. She was older, wiser. If she wanted change, it would have to begin with her. But knowing what needed to be done did not make the prospect any more inviting.

And so she sat, stomach churning as Diana walked towards her to share their morning meal. The two ate in silence for a few minutes before Hippolyta put her fork down. The movement caught Diana's eye, and she glanced up at her mother.

The girl appeared tired, light shadows resting under her eyes. It was not a new look; she had seemed a bit sluggish at a few of their breakfasts in the recent past. Hippolyta had not felt comfortable asking about it. As if sensing the queen's scrutiny, Diana stared down at her plate, spearing a piece of melon.

"Diana, is something wrong?"

The girl paused, chewing and swallowing her food before answering, "No, I am doing well."

"You seemed tired this morning. You've seemed tired for a few mornings actually."

"I suppose it is just from practicing with the man." Diana pushed the fruit around on her plate.

"Perhaps…Seeing as how we are discussing Bruce-" Hippolyta noticed Diana's fork stop moving-"What do you know about him?"

"You have seen my interactions with him. I know as much as you do."

Hippolyta waited for an elaboration.

"I know he is an excellent soldier. A fair fighter. Very intelligent."

Hippolyta nodded her head in agreement and saw Diana's shoulders relax slightly.

"All those things are true," the queen said gently, "but I wasn't referring to him as a warrior, but as a person."

Diana continued looking down at her plate. "You know he doesn't talk much."

"I think Bruce is a good man."

"He doesn't seem to be a bad man."

"I also think he is a very attractive young man."

Diana's cheeks turned a shade darker, but she nodded her head before asking, "Is this about what happened at practice?"

"Yes. I remember a few months ago you telling me how much you disliked him. It seems things have changed."

"I respect him now. I didn't before. I felt badly for hurting him."

"I can see that."

"And you're not upset?"

"I have no reason to be. It is not as though you are in love with him."

Diana finally looked up, disbelief clearly written on her face. "Of course I wouldn't be in love with him, mother! He's just…Bruce."

"For now."

"What does that mean?"

It was now time to divulge. Hippolyta couldn't believe how scared she felt, but it wouldn't grow any easier by putting it off.

"I was once in love with a man."

Hippolyta almost smiled at how wide her daughter's jaw dropped open. She continued, "There are many reasons I have not told you this, many reasons I have not told you a lot of things…I know you have been upset with me about Bruce."

"It's alright."

"No, Diana, it is not alright. We hardly speak with each other anymore, and that was never my intent. I did not keep things from you because I did not trust you. I wanted to protect you."

Diana gave her a closed-mouth smile. In a soft voice, she said, "I know. I just wish you wouldn't."

"It seems that the goddesses are of the same opinion. I never had any intention of telling you about Bruce. I had expected him to leave the island at some point without you ever knowing of his existence."

Diana blinked at the words, and Hippolyta saw her stiffen. The possibility that her daughter had already fallen for Bruce seemed even more probable. Hippolyta sighed.

"In spite of all my intentions, you do know about Bruce…And there might come a time where you find that you have more than respect for him."

Diana shook her head adamantly and opened her mouth to speak, but Hippolyta cut her off, "Please hear me out."

"Yes, mother."

"I thought by keeping these things about the Amazons' past--about my past--away from you, you would never have to deal with the trouble that comes with knowing his kind. I didn't anticipate Bruce washing up here, but he is here, and I cannot keep pushing off this discussion with you."

"Why are you telling me all this? Why now?"

"Because I want you to be fully aware of the possible consequences."

"What consequences?"

"I think you know very well what I'm talking about, Diana."

"Things are not like that between me and Bruce. We are just training partners. That's all."

"There was a time when I was just training partners with some one, but it did not end there…I was in love with Heracles." The admission was like a weight off her chest. It would have lifted her heart had not Diana looked so revolted.

"But he's…vile and…disgusting."

"What he did was vile and disgusting. I offer no excuse for it. And I did not love him at the beginning. At first I thought he was a foolish, stupid man. He challenged me for a girdle that was a gift from the gods, and I beat him in honest combat. As hostilities were at an end, I invited him and his soldiers into our kingdom. This was custom, a sign of good will among leaders. You are aware of what eventually happened. All I will say is, I had no idea he was capable of such evil."

Her daughter paled beside her, visibly horrorstruck. "You don't think Bruce would…"

"No. I don't. But that's the point I'm trying to make. I never thought Heracles would do that either. But I am not finished.

"Because of the revenge many of the Amazons took on Heracles' soldiers, we were forced to guard one of the gates to Tartarus, called Doom's Doorway. Access to the gate is hidden deep within the mountain, and there are very few who know the way there."

Diana interrupted, "_One _of the gates?"

"There are others, but I know not where. I imagine there is one in Greece and in other countries where the worship of the goddesses has reached…As I was saying, Heracles was far from a perfect man. Because of his many sins, he was sent to Tartarus, where he was turned into a pillar that supported Doom's Doorway. He remained in that form for thousands of years, forced to endure centuries of torture. It was a very humbling experience. When he was finally released, he was a changed man. So much so that many of the Amazons forgave him of his past wrongs. It was then that I fell for him."

Hippolyta sat in silence, waiting for Diana to say something, anything. When the princess finally spoke, her words were calm, even restrained. "But how could you love him?"

"You were not the only Amazon to feel that way, Diana. Just because the majority accepted his transformation, they were not all ready to accept their queen being with such a man. Certainly not Antiope. She has never forgiven him, and I doubt she has forgiven me." Hippolyta shook her head, saddened by the old injuries and betrayals. "It was for this reason I waited so long to tell you these things. I feared I would lose your respect and love."

Diana said nothing, and Hippolyta soldiered on through the stony silence. "I do not know how to explain my love for Heracles other than stressing I believed he was a changed man. It was reason enough to allow the attraction I had originally felt for him when he had first entered my kingdom. There is one other reason, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. I have other things to tell you first.

"There once was a time when Themyscira floated above the earth. That changed within the year Heracles was released from his torment."

This seemed to startle Diana from her stupor. "Why?"

"While we are loved and protected by our patron goddesses, not all the female Olympians are kindly disposed towards us."

Diana's brows knit together before her eyes lit up in recognition, "Is it because of the queen of the gods? Hera?"

"Yes, but she did not always hate us. I think it first started when Heracles first came to Themyscira."

"But Heracles attacked the Amazons."

"True, and Hera was the one behind this particular labor of his. She hates Heracles, because he was the product of one of Zeus' affairs with a mortal woman. But I believe she sent him for the purpose of humiliating him at the hands of a woman. Not only that but she struck him with madness, and I am certain that influenced Heracles' actions. When I welcomed him into the city after beating him, I can't imagine Hera was pleased. No doubt she believes we deserved what happened."

"No one deserves that. How can she be so cruel?"

"She is a goddess. It is not for us to ask. Just be grateful our own goddesses are not like her…In any case, she must have thought that was punishment enough, because we did not hear of her for almost two thousand years. Even when we fought for the Trojan side in the Great War, there was no reprisal, though the Trojans are her mortal enemies. But when she realized that Heracles was no longer in Tartarus, that he had…taken up with the Queen of the Amazons, she was enraged and attacked Themyscira. If not for the other goddesses' intervention, I am not sure there would be any island left at all.

"We have enjoyed peace in the intervening fifteen hundred years," Hippolyta took a deep breath, looking pointedly at Diana. "However, there was an event that happened about twelve years ago that has put us back in danger."

"Is that when Bruce came?"

"Yes."

"What does he have to do with Hera?"

"I told you of Hera's hate for the Trojans, but I have not told you why it exists. Or even much about the Great War."

Diana leaned forward in her seat, and Hippolyta smiled at her daughter's characteristic eagerness. "I suppose I should have told you sooner."

"I agree."

Hippolyta raised an unimpressed brow. "There was once a wedding between a nymph and a mortal. It took place on Mount Olympus, so there were many gods and goddesses in attendance, but Eris, the goddess of discord, was unsurprisingly not invited. As revenge, she brought a wedding gift—a golden apple with an inscription _Kallisti_--"

"For the most beautiful one."

"Correct. Of course an argument arose about which of the goddesses—Aphrodite, Athena, or Hera—was the most beautiful. Zeus wisely refused to play judge. Instead a Trojan prince was taken to judge this contest of beauty. His name was Paris. In exchange for the golden apple, the goddesses all promised him different gifts. From Hera he would be given Europe and Asia. Athena promised wisdom and skill in battle. But Aphrodite offered him a wife nearly as beautiful as herself. And then she took off her robes. I suspect you can figure out who won the contest."

"What a stupid man."

"Lust has fogged the minds of many intelligent men and women." Hippolyta peered into Diana's face, looking for some kind of reaction but there was nothing.

"Unfortunately, Paris' new bride, Helen of Sparta, was already married. And she was married to a king, Menelaus, who upon marrying her had received the promise from all her many suitors (many of them kings themselves) that they would take his side against any who quarreled with him. And when Paris took Helen from Menelaus' house, these suitors all banded together on behalf of the Spartan king.

"Because of Paris' choice, Hera was furious. She did everything in her power to bring down Troy, and in the end, she won. Due to a long standing alliance amongst our peoples, there was an Amazonian contingent sent, albeit reluctantly. As you know, your Aunt Penthesilea died."

"Who killed her?"

"You remember the wedding at Mount Olympus I mentioned? It was between Peleus and Thetis, the parents of Achilles. He is the man who killed your aunt."

"But why would you fight for the cause of a man who stole another man's wife?"

"I cannot speak of Paris too harshly. He is the one who killed Achilles."

Diana quieted at this, and Hippolyta continued. "Hera's victory was only temporary. There was another Trojan soldier, Aeneas, who survived. He was the son of Aphrodite and a mortal man. He became the ruler of Rome, which outstripped the ancient kings of Greece many times over."

"But what does this have to do with Bruce?"

"Patience, daughter, this story is thousands of years in the making; it cannot be rushed. During the night Troy fell our goddess Athena witnessed a curse, promising war between the descendants of Aeneas and that of a man named Melanthius until one side defeated the other."

"Was he a king too?"

"More like a swine. He is a thief who witnessed the violation of one of Athena's worshipers, in her temple no less. In any case, Athena believes that Bruce might be the descendant of Melanthius."

Diana's eyes widened, and the fork she had been using fell to the plate with a loud clatter.

"We have tried to keep Bruce's existence on the island a secret, so that Hera will not find and use him in order to reestablish the kingdoms of the Greeks. If she discovered this, you can only imagine what she would do to us for hiding him from her."

Diana shook her head in disbelief, but Hippolyta saw the soft blue of her daughter's eyes soon sharpen. "And what if Bruce is this heir? What will he do to us?"

"I don't know, but I imagine it wouldn't be good, considering we are allies of the Trojans. But that is the reason Athena asked us to befriend him."

"Well, where is Athena? Is she making sure that Hera does not find out about him?"

"I don't know where Athena is."

"But Themyscira might be destroyed. Why is she not here to make sure nothing happens?"

"As I said before, you cannot question the goddesses. We must trust that Athena knows what she is doing. Believe me, I have lived a very long time, and she has never betrayed us."

"But--"

"Diana, has Bruce given you any reason to think he is the heir of Melanthius?"

Hippolyta studied Diana intently. Her eyes were hardened by anger, but they were glistening as well. "No," Diana gritted through her teeth.

"Good. I still hold out hope that this has all been some big misunderstanding. In the meanwhile, you cannot let him know about any of this. He does not know, and I don't know how he will respond."

"You have my word."

The obvious turmoil these recent revelations had brought Diana lay heavy on Hippolyta's heart, and she reached for her daughter's hand, gently squeezing it.

"I have seen your interactions with Bruce, and were it not for this other knowledge, I would suspect him of nothing. But it is impossible to know who Bruce is, and I had to warn you."

Diana withdrew her hand and stared straight at Hippolyta. "Mother, I do not love Bruce."

A wry smile twisted the queen's lips. "I know, but you are young, and you cannot understand what the human heart is capable of. No one really does until they are in that situation, and by then it is too late for most people. I have had to learn these lessons the hard way. I do not want it to be the same for you. And so I ask that you would consider these things, even though it might seem unnecessary. Hopefully it will be, but I want you to be prepared in any event."

"If you could, would you do things differently?" The words tripped from Diana's mouth in a shortened staccato.

"While I still believe Heracles is a better person, I now realize what a mistake it was to allow myself to fall in love with him. Not because of who he was, but because of who I am. As queen, my actions are not my own. Themyscira and the Amazons must always come first."

Diana nodded her head.

"I want you to understand that, because if you decide to be with Bruce, you will have to leave here. The Amazons will not accept him as your consort, even without a background like Heracles, and certainly not with the heritage of Melanthius."

"Themyscira is my home. It will always be."

"Just be careful, Diana."

"I will be. I promise. Thank you for trusting me with this."

"I have always trusted you. It is Bruce I worry about."

Conversation at an end, the two ladies finished their breakfast in silence.

When they were finished, Hippolyta watched as her daughter left. While the princess was smiling, her eyes, which normally shone as bright as the sun and stars, were dim.

* * *

Diana stared across from her opponent. The moon glinted off his burnished helmet and shield, illuminating his face in the darkness.

Bruce took a menacing step forward, sword in hand. It came down with such speed, striking her own weapon with a force she felt all the way to the soles of her feet. They volleyed back and forth, the loud clang of metal on metal disturbing the otherwise quiet night. Finally, she was on the ground, his sword poised at her neck.

"Not bad," he smiled. "Especially for a beginner."

His praise was rarely given, and Diana had to fight the urge to smile back. He offered his hand to help her up, and she almost didn't take it. There had too many times she had felt things she didn't understand or didn't want to feel. But remembering it only happened when they weren't sparring, she placed her fingers in his.

Things had been difficult for her the past few months, ever since Hippolyta had told her about Bruce's possible connection to Melanthius. Diana could not completely relax around Bruce, and their readings of _The Aeneid _had taken on new meaning. She had convinced him to start over from the beginning, just so she could again hear the sections that dealt with the Trojan War. And the confusion she experienced at the relationship between Dido and Aeneas had not changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

Their uneasy friendship hadn't exactly disappeared, but Diana consistently found herself plagued by doubts and surprisingly enough, guilt.

Even though her mother had given strict instructions not to share their discussion with Bruce, Diana felt she owed it to him. It was not fair that he should be in the dark about something this important. She tried to dismiss these moment of conscience, telling herself she didn't owe Bruce anything, especially if he was the descendant of an evil man, but her heart didn't believe it. He was Bruce, her friend, and that was the most important thing as far as she was concerned.

Of course, this didn't sit well with the part of her that viewed friendship with him as betrayal of the Amazons and Themyscira. Her mother had asked her to be careful, but it was growing more and more difficult to remain guarded with him.

Things had only been made more difficult by the increased time they spent fighting each other. She had accidentally discovered he knew more fighting styles during one of their very rare private sparring sessions. He had defended with a move wholly unknown to her, and Diana had not let the issue rest until he promised to teach her everything he knew.

That was where they were now.

She took a step back and watched as he set his sword and shield down and advanced toward her.

"Remember savate?"

"A little. We haven't done that one in a while."

"I know. I wanted to try the directe fouetté directe. Do you want me to go over it with you?"

"You probably should."

He came within a foot of her, and she threw her own weapons far away to the side. Then they both put up their hands.

"First, you are going to jab me with your left hand," he said.

She mimed the instructions, holding her first against his face while she waited for what to do next.

"Then bring up your left leg to kick me in the liver." She did so, and he bent over slightly, showing how his body would be positioned after the move.

"Then bring your right hand back and jab me in the face again."

With her right fist against his face, he smiled at her. "You think you got it?"

"If I were you, I'd be worrying about myself."

"We'll see. Now take your helmet off."

With heads bared, they started circling on another, both trying to get the first move in, but they had been sparring with each other for so long, it was almost impossible to break through the other's defenses.

They were now very close, both trying to unbalance each other. Bruce succeeded first, and Diana took a step back, gritting her teeth the instant she felt him execute a leg sweep. As she fell backwards, her hands instinctively grabbed his tunic. While this fractionally slowed down her descent, it magnified the pain of impact considerably. Bruce fell on top of her, crushing her into the ground. The air rushed out of her lungs and she bit her lower lip. The pain was nothing out of the ordinary, but the sharp discomfort made her eyes water.

His eyes met hers immediately, and just as quickly his hands pushed off against the ground. His arms, now straightened, were on either side of her, fuzzy shapes at the edge of her vision. Still on her back, she pulled oxygen into her lungs as she stared up at him.

His eyes bore into hers, at first full of concern, but then gradually they took on another look. It reminded her of what she had seen in the stares of some of Antiope's soldiers when they would watch Bruce. Back then she had thought it hunger, and while she still couldn't put a name to it, she knew it wasn't something that could be satisfied with food.

Her stomach started fluttering, which wasn't a new occurrence. It had been happening routinely since they had started sparring alone together again, but it had never been this strong. She turned her head to the side, anything to escape his penetrating stare as she waited for her breathing to return to normal.

Her eyes wandered over the bars of flesh and muscle entrapping her, coming to rest where his neck met his shoulder. A thin sheen of sweat covered Bruce's skin, bringing the image into intricate detail. Every line and plane of his physique glowed under the warmth of the moon, and she didn't like what it was doing to her.

She shut her eyes tightly in an attempt to block him out. Unbidden, flashes of him with his mouth at her neck appeared in the darkness of her vision. She could see herself clearly enjoying him, throwing her head back so he could have more of her. The image did not disgust her as it should have, and she flushed with embarrassment, even shame.

She swallowed, opening her eyes, but looking up at the sky. The stars twinkled down on her, and she concentrated on their cool light as she tried formulating some kind of response. .

"That did not feel like a directe fouetté directe. You cheated." The words were rushed and shaky, but she smiled, hoping to play it off.

"Diana, are you alright?" His voice sounded different in a way she couldn't explain, but it seemed too…intimate for friends.

"I'm not sure."

His hand gently brushed the side of her face, and she felt the almost familiar onslaught of emotion pour through her as she closed her eyes again. But even though it had happened a number of times before, she still wasn't prepared for it. The connection was more intense than the previous times; quite frankly, it was more intense than anything she had ever experienced in her life.

The extremes of pleasure and pain throbbed in her veins, eliciting a frightened gasp. That brief flash of desire she had for Bruce only seconds ago paled in comparison to what was happening inside him now. The wanting was so poignant, her heart ached.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was met with Bruce's face, not too far from her own. He blinked, but did not move back. "You fell pretty hard." His fingers slowly brushed against her cheekbone, and without thinking she leaned into his touch, letting her cheek rest in his hand. His head tilted downward, but she could only stare back at him.

Frightened, she moved her head to the side just as he lowered his mouth, causing his lips to brush against her cheek. She held her breath at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her, but he quickly moved away, as if she had burned him. Even though space was what she had wanted, his sudden absence disappointed her. Diana quickly sat up, not understanding how she could both want and fear something so much at the same time.

Bruce didn't look at her, but his hands were at her shoulders in an instant. "Stay still. You might have hit your head." He immediately dropped his hands, but her skin still tingled in his wake.

"Diana?"

"I'm fine," she stated, immediately trying to forget the sound of his voice rasping out her name. He had spoken to her in that tone many times, almost since the day they had met. How had she not understood until now? Not only did she feel stupid, but she was mortified for embarrassing him as well.

"I didn't hit my head," she protested again.

He finally looked up at her. His face was back to its cold mask, the one she hadn't seen in months. The only difference was he looked slightly flushed.

There was so much that puzzled her, but she was too afraid to ask. It was safest just to leave. She needed to be away from him and sort herself out.

Diana stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes. He stood up with her, looking towards their pile of weapons a few feet away.

"I'm not sure you're ready for another round," he said.

"I know I'm not. I think I should be going."

"We still have another hour."

Diana shook her head, growing more and more frustrated, wanting him to do something, anything to explain what had just happened and make her stop feeling so uncomfortable. But he just stood there.

"I'm leaving," she said, this time more firmly.

She didn't look back as she ran away.

With every step she took, the truth grew clearer. He wanted her so much it literally hurt him, and she had probably humiliated him.

But that wasn't the worst part.

She wanted him too.

Terrified, she lifted off the ground and flew back to the city. She did not know what to do or where to go. Her first instinct was to run to her mother, but Diana couldn't. Not after she had sworn up and down she felt nothing for Bruce besides friendship.

Approaching the city from the ocean's side, she hovered above the waters, focusing on the mirror image of the glowing moon in all its serenity. Diana watched in silence, allowing the churning of the waves to wear down her fear, permitting the mist of the sea spray to calm her confusion.

She turned back to the cliff and traced the unyielding wall from bottom to top. Her eyes lighted on a row of houses on the periphery of the city, barely visible due to the distance.

It was late, but there was a light still shining in one of the windows. Diana drifted towards it, coasting on the gentle wind currents that pushed her upward.

Less than a minute later, she was standing at Alexandra's door deciding whether she should knock.

She delivered three quick raps to the wood and forced herself to wait.

It took the artist a few moments to answer the door. When Alexandra did, she was dressed in sleeping clothes.

"I saw the light in the window and thought you were awake. Did I come at a bad time?"

"No, I was just getting ready for bed. Come in." Alexandra stepped back and swung the door open wide.

Diana walked to the middle of the receiving room and stood there as Alexandra closed the door behind them.

"Would you like something to drink?" Alexandra asked.

"Alright."

Alexandra came back and handed Diana a glass of wine. At Diana's raised brow, the artist said, "You look like you could use it."

Both women took a seat, and once Diana had downed her drink, Alexandra said, "So…"

On the table near the couch was an open sketchbook. Setting her glass aside, Diana reached for it. "May I?"

Alexandra hesitated, a faint blush stealing over her face, but finally nodded her head.

Diana flipped slowly through the pages. The images were all of Paramonos performing various actions: laughing, working, fighting, eating, painting, and many more. However, the Paramonos of these sketches seemed much different from Xanthia's work. He was less formal and his smile was not quite so besotted.

"That is why I have been having Xanthia teach me to draw. Sculpture can only capture so much," Alexandra said, watching her drink as it swirled around in her cup. "I guess I'm a little obsessed," she said.

"Why do you do it?" Diana asked.

The older woman's shoulders rose in a quick shrug. "I guess I don't want to forget anything else."

"You still haven't told me the rest of your story."

Diana flipped to the next page of drawings as she waited for a reply. The picture was incomplete. Paramonos was lying in bed, his upper body exposed, hand crossed behind his head. He was smiling at the other person in the picture, presumably Alexandra. The woman was seated in front of him, blocking out his lower half. She had no head and her back was bare. Diana's stomach began to feel funny.

"I wasn't sure you wanted to know more," Alexandra said.

"I do."

Feeling the older woman's gaze on her, Diana shut the sketchbook, blushing furiously. "Unless it's too private…"

"I actually like talking about him. As you can imagine, there aren't many people I can share this with. What would you like to know?"

Diana grabbed at the hem of her chiton and twisted the material between her fingers. "I'm not sure how to ask my questions. I never knew that men and women could even be friends, much less more…How did you feel around him?"

"It changed a lot. At first, he annoyed me. He was very handsome, and I was attracted to him and didn't want to be, so I ignored his flirting."

"Flirting?"

"It's a way of…getting attention and trying to make yourself seem desirable to the opposite sex. I thought he was doing it to sleep with me."

The sketch of Paramonos happily staring up at Alexandra came to mind. He had looked happy, but all Diana could remember was what she had read with Bruce. When Dido had slept with Aeneas, it had been her ruin.

"Did he?" Diana cleared her throat. "Did he sleep with you?"

"Yes, but it didn't happen until much later."

"Did you do it because you…wanted him?"

"Yes, but it was much more than that. There had been other men I've wanted, but he was the only one I was ever with."

"So just because you want someone, you don't have to sleep with them?"

Alexandra laughed loudly, shattering the quiet and solemnity that had been choking the atmosphere. "Thank Aphrodite, no! If we just acted on our desires, we'd be nothing more than animals."

Diana smiled, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. Her life was not destined to be ruined. She turned towards Alexandra, tucking her ankle under the knee of her other leg. The questions came more easily. "Is wanting a man bad?"

"Is wanting to eat or take a bath bad?"

"Well, no, but--"

"The point is, Diana, desires aren't bad. They are feelings you can't control; they're just there and they are part of being human. But humans also have minds, reason, and the ability to know what is right and wrong. They can choose what to do with their desires. It is _those_ actions and thoughts that are good or bad."

"So why sleep with Paramonos, but not the other men?"

"I loved him. I did not love the others."

"What did you do about your feelings for them?"

"I chose to ignore them for various reasons. Some because I was too young, others because I was too focused on being a soldier. Still others because I knew it was a purely physical attraction, and that wasn't enough for me."

"What made Paramonos enough?"

"Apart from him being the handsomest man ever?" At Diana's surprised look, Alexandra laughed again, but quickly sobered. "I'm sorry, Princess. I _can_ be serious; it's just difficult sometimes because this is so personal." She leaned against the back of the couch, letting her head drop on the cushions while she looked at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she started to speak. "Well…with him, I could tell he wanted to help me become a better person, and I never really got that impression with the others. It was all about the moment, and what they wanted. They wanted me, but not what was good for me. They didn't care about my reputation or my future at all, just satisfying themselves. Paramonos was the opposite…I mean, I knew he wanted me; he was always extremely clear about that. Always. But he was just as often making promises about the future and how he would stay with me, even when he knew I didn't like him. Another big thing was, he only pursued me. I told him many times to find someone else, even threw him at some of my friends, but he wouldn't go away. It's hard to say no to that kind of confidence and persistence after a while. And it wasn't that I wasn't attracted to him. I was. A lot, actually. He finally showed me that it could work, that I could trust him, that we would be good together, and so I started seeing him."

"What made you know it was alright to…be with him?"

"It was a natural progression. We were growing closer to each other emotionally and spiritually. Eventually the physical caught up to that."

"But how did you know that it would be alright?"

"I didn't. And really, it didn't work out. I'm here and he's dead."

Alexandra's retelling had brought Paramonos to life, so much so that Diana was beginning to like him herself. The stark reminder that he wasn't among the living brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

"I'm sorry," Diana offered, knowing it was small consolation.

"I am too." Alexandra stared at her glass for another moment before drinking the rest of her wine.

"May I ask how he died?"

Alexandra nodded her head, not making eye contact. "When the goddesses released the other Amazons, they slaughtered many of the soldiers. You already knew that. But then they sent a group of soldiers to track us down and rescue me and other Amazons who had been "abducted" by the soldiers. It was my turn to hunt, for food so I had left Paramonos back at our shelter. When I returned he was dead, and they were expecting me to come back."

"The Amazons killed him? But he saved you," Diana spluttered, disbelieving the news.

Alexandra's mouth was pulled into a grim line, eyes unfocused on some spot in the distance. "Five against one. It was hardly a fair fight."

Diana felt sick. "Who did it?"

The artist gave a firm shake of her head. "It's best not to keep track of those kinds of things. Besides, I'm sure they thought they were helping me."

Diana was not convinced Alexandra truly believed this, but she didn't press the issue. "Why did you come back?" she asked.

"I don't know." The tense set of Alexandra's jaw suddenly grew slack, her lower lip trembling. Diana had just enough warning before her friend burst into tears.

Neither woman said anything, and Diana looked away as Alexandra wiped away her tears and calmed herself.

"I apologize for…that. I'd rather not cry in front of people if I can help it."

"Don't worry. It's completely understandable."

And it was. Diana was a bit misty-eyed herself.

Alexandra tried again, "Your question is something I think about often, almost every day. I wish I had not returned, but I couldn't think straight at the time. It had been difficult enough for me to leave with him, because I loved Themyscira so much. And he was my only home outside of my city. When he died, I had nothing but Themyscira and my sisters. Where would I have gone? What would I have done?"

"There was nothing you could do," Diana said, earnest in her belief.

But it was clear Alexandra thought otherwise. "But then the punishment for the slaughter of Heracles' men was immortality. I did not imagine having to live forever without him. I had planned to die and be reunited with him."

"You want to die?"

"There are worse things than death, Diana. If suicide were not against our code and hated by the gods, I would have left a long time ago. When the Amazons went to Troy, I was one of the first on the ship. But it seems the gods want me here."

These revelations were shocking to Diana, especially coming from an Amazon. When Bruce had expressed his disgust for Themyscira, she had not believed it at first, but came to accept it because he was a man and did not know better.

Yet, while Alexandra's words were surprising, Diana found she was able to understand them, even if she had no idea how to comfort someone who wanted to die.

"I'm glad you are still here." Was that enough? "It's very brave of you to keep going." Diana wished she had more wine. "I don't know what else to say."

"It's alright. You don't need to say anything. And I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I am still happy in my own way. I can still find pleasure in life. I just wish that it were spent with him. But I will just have to wait."

Diana thought it best to change the subject. It was time to share a little of what had brought her here.

"Alexandra?"

"Yes?"

"I read a book I shouldn't have read."

The artist turned her head, smiling at Diana as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. "And what book is that?"

Diana almost sighed in relief, thankful that Alexandra did not upbraid her for reading the forbidden literature of Man's World.

"_The Aeneid _by Virgil. Have you read it?"

"No. But I know the basic story. I was there for the war part and have heard some accounts of what happened afterward."

"Did you fight with my aunt?"

The question seemed to throw Alexandra, but she gave a quick shake to her head, causing the curls atop her head to bounce. "Yes…What makes you bring up that book?"

"Did you know Dido?"

"Not personally, but I wish I had. From what I heard of her, she sounded like a great woman."

"Well, she fell in love with a man named Aeneas."

"I can't say I blame her. He was gorgeous."

Diana's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Alexandra laughed again, and Diana was thankful for the sound's return. "I'm not completely shallow. He was a great man and a fearsome warrior. After Hector, there was no better Trojan than him."

"I don't think you're shallow. It's just odd hearing about these people as if they were real."

"Well, they were very real, though I'm sure Virgil took some artistic liberties. You were saying about Aeneas and Dido…"

"She slept with him, and things didn't end up very well for her."

The green eyes turned on her with keen interest, and Diana looked away. She had forgotten how perceptive Alexandra was. "Are you wanting to know if all relationships end badly? Or if I, given all that I have been through, think it's worth it?"

"Yes, to both questions."

"Any particular reason?"

"I don't want to say." That was a lie. "I mean, I don't think I should say."

Alexandra tilted her head to the side in thought, a disbelieving smile on her face. Pursing her lips together, she tried to look serious, but the grin persisted. "Then I won't force you to. Though I might need to get out of my house more often. It seems there are some things I'm missing by being a hermit."

Diana grinned in return. "No comment."

"Is it possible that…" Alexandra let the question hang in the air. It could have meant anything, but Diana was beginning to believe Alexandra was starting to figure out that females were no longer the only inhabitants in Themyscira.

"No comment," Diana said again.

"Right. Well, to answer your questions. No, not all relationships end badly. Or at least not as badly as mine or Dido's. I told you before that some other Amazons actually left with their men. When we were in Troy, we heard stories about some of them. They had, of course, aged, but from all reports, many of them lived fulfilling and happy lives. That being said, every relationship must face death. Unless, hypothetically, you met another male who was immortal."

Diana knew Alexandra was digging for information. "I know of no such man, unless he is a god."

"Is he?"

"Is who?"

"Never mind." Alexandra gave a mock exasperated huff out of the side of her mouth. "As for your second question, I can't speak for others, but I think it's worth it. I know I never would have experienced as much pain as I did if I had never met him, but I also would never have experienced as much happiness as I did either. I'd rather have those extremes than nothing at all…But that answer didn't come easily, and I know a few Amazons who would disagree with me. Loss is very painful, and people deal with it in very different ways."

"Does it always have to be so painful?"

"Even if Paramonos hadn't died so soon after we were together, things would still have been painful. That's part of loving another person. We would have gotten into arguments, damaged each other with our words and actions. Any time you invest in another human being, there is potential to be hurt. It's dangerous. They might not return your affections, they might betray you, or they will die. But if you focus on those things, and let that scare you away, you should consider the alternative."

"To never love?"

"Exactly. And not just a man, but anyone. People hurt each other. That's just how it is. But would you rather have no attachments with anyone? I've known people like that, and they are much more miserable than me."

Diana sat in silence for a while as she pondered those words until a loud yawn from Alexandra broke her train of thought.

"I'm sorry. I forgot how late it was," Diana said.

"There is nothing to be sorry-"Alexandra yawned again-"Excuse me. Maybe we should call it a night. Will I be seeing you again soon?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. Thank you for talking about these things with me."

"My pleasure."

Just as Alexandra was closing the door, she called out, "And, Diana, if you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean _anything, _my door is always open."

Diana nodded her head. "Goodnight."

After the door shut, the princess made the long trek back up to the palace.

There was still much to think about, and she was far from any answers.

* * *

**To Be Continued

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**

Forgot my review replies. Sorry.

LT8- Slowly but surely I am trying to advance the plot. You should see the next chapter!** :)** Thanks for reviewing!

d- lol, yeah went overboard with the reply. will try to curtail my chattiness. or move it somewhere else. Very valid point about Bruce/Diana's story choice. Will address that soon. You are so insightful, d, just predicting what should and what will happen next. Yes, I'm all about love and duty coexisting, or rather duty being an expression of love. Not in its highest form, but certainly it means something and I think that something is a whole lot! Again with the Oracle and your predictions, lol. You're like reading my mind. I have lots of the next chapter written out, so hopefully I can update by the end of the month. Thanks for reviewing!

jlufan-nitpicking is perfectly fine. :) Orestes did have a happier ending. I just looked him up on wikipedia the other day. I believe he died of snake bite, but he was acquitted by Athena for murdering his mother for murdering his father for murdering his sister. lol. I believe it's the explanation given for why a person is acquitted when there is a hung jury, though I could be wrong. I'm no lawyer and I stopped watching Law and Order a while back. Thanks for reviewing!


	16. Discoveries

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

KN, you are gloriously wonderful. Thanks for the beta and my cool BMWW magnets! **:D**

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**Stranger in Paradise:**

**Chapter 15:**

**Discoveries**

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Exiting his section of the Amazonian retreat, Alfred strolled through the garden in the cool morning light admiring the flowers. Shocks of scarlet here, seas of cerulean there, and every other jewel-bright color imaginable contributed to the perpetually fragrant rainbow. Winter did not dare step foot in Themyscira, leaving the blossoms free to dazzle the eye, beguile the nose, and gladden the heart year round.

Passing the herb garden he had been tending since their arrival, Alfred smiled in approval at his work. The ground of Themyscira was extremely fertile, no doubt charmed to bless the labor of even the most inept gardener. But even though he could not take much credit for its growth, Alfred still derived great joy from the carefully arranged bed. In comparison to the rest of the garden, it would be considered drab, even colorless, but it was his little spot of home.

Having felt a stranger in his earliest days on Themyscira but resigned to make the most of an unfortunate situation, Alfred sought ways of making his mark on his new home. Within days a request for seeds was sent to Athena, and her owl promptly delivered them. As he recalled recipes and memories, he would add to the list. None of the herbs cultivated were native to Themyscira, but all had been used in his previous life.

Whenever the seeds arrived, he would rush to the garden the second he had a free moment. Rolling up his sleeves, kneeling in the dirt, he buried the cores deep in the ground. Daily he would check their progress, eagerly awaiting the day the first shoots would force their way through the ground. Their appearance and subsequent flourishing was therapeutic for him, and he patiently longed for the day he would tend his own garden in Gotham.

At the beginning, Alfred was not the only one who watched for the sprouting greenery. Athena's bird would often perch in a nearby tree and remain there for hours, mostly sleeping, sometimes watching. Being no ornithologist, Alfred required a guide book to learn which species of owl it was. Naturally it had been a little owl, or as it was known by its binomial name, _Athene noctua_.

It had been some time since he had last seen the feathered messenger. Because Alfred had long ago established himself on the island, the bird was only sent for on rare occasions. However, there were plenty of other winged creatures to make up for its absence. The hummingbirds were Alfred's particular favorites.

Turning to look one last time at his garden, he pushed against Demeter's door. Emeralds, silvers, pearls, and ambers gleamed in their settings, depicting symbols common to the goddess of the harvest: cornucopia, sheaves of wheat, sunflowers, daisies, ash and oak tree. It was life and plenteousness. As he passed through into the hallway, he was immediately greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread. The walls glimmered the soft gold of autumn mornings, and lush grass cushioned each of Alfred's steps.

Before he even reached the second door to the kitchen, he could hear Bruce loudly making his way through Demeter's domain.

_So much for a peaceful morning._

Opening the plain wooden door, he cringed at the mess he saw. Rushing to the stove, he shooed Bruce away. Within minutes, a proper breakfast was under way.

Not sparing a glance over his shoulder at the stewing Bruce, Alfred queried, "Care for some coffee, sir?"

Bruce didn't answer the conciliatory words, just kept tearing through the kitchen. He had been acting like a bear for the entire week, and while the boy's occasional bouts with grumpiness amused Alfred, Bruce's constant ill humor was getting a bit tiresome.

"Anything I can get for you, Master Bruce?"

"No." Bruce sat down at the table, immediately grabbing his glass of orange juice and gulping it down in what Alfred considered a most slovenly manner.

"Be careful, sir. Wouldn't want you choking on your breakfast."

Bruce banged the empty glass down on the table, causing it to shake. It was a miracle the cup did not break.

Enough was enough.

"May I presume things have not been going well with Miss Diana?" the butler asked, drolly.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her; she's been ignoring me for the past week."

"So your foul temper is merely a symptom of withdrawal?"

"Hardly."

"Lovers' spat?" quarrel?

Bruce's fingers tightened around his empty glass. "No."

"Then why is Miss Diana avoiding you?"

"I don't know."

Alfred arched his brow, "Really, sir? There is no reason whatsoever for Miss Diana to be upset with you?"

The young man's anger seemed to deflate at the question. Shoulders hunched, head in his hands, Bruce mumbled his answer. Alfred leaned in, but the mush of words was impossible to discern

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce, but you will need to enunciate."

"I tried to kiss her."

Alfred laughed, instantly earning an injured glare from his ward. The butler wiped the smile off his face as he placed a plate of food in front of the young man and refilled his orange juice. "Excuse me." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I take it Miss Diana was not as receptive to your romantic overtures as you would have liked."

Bruce speared his scrambled eggs.

"Well, did the young lady say anything?"

"Just that she needed to go, and then she left."

"She didn't slap you?"

"No."

"Didn't yell at you?"

"No."

"Berate you for being an imbecile?"

"No."

With each successive question, Bruce slumped further and further into his seat.

_Poor boy._

"Look on the bright side, sir. She could have killed you, and yet you're still here."

The chill in Bruce's narrowed eyes earned an exasperated sigh from his caretaker. "Did you really expect her to welcome your advances? She is an Amazon, and you have probably given her the rudest awakening in her life. Of course she didn't reciprocate."

Bruce stood from the table, almost upending his chair. "Thanks for the advice."

"Oh, do sit down, Master Bruce." Alfred could see the boy waver before wisely retaking his seat. "I can't believe I am having to tell _you_ this, but it's time you thought rationally. Miss Diana likes you. You have surprised her. That is all."

Bruce tore off pieces of his toast, leaving them uneaten. When he finally spoke, his answer passed through a clenched jaw. "Just because Diana didn't kill me doesn't mean she wanted me to kiss her."

If Alfred did not consider himself above such things, he would have rolled his eyes.

"Agreed, but it also doesn't mean that there won't be a time when your…advances will be appreciated. Put yourself in Miss Diana's position. What does she know of the attraction between men and women?"

"Plenty." Bruce ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and Alfred's good humor returned.

"Much as _you_ may find yourself attracted to her, I highly doubt Miss Diana is doing anything other than being herself. Although perhaps it is a gift from her goddess, Aphrodite. Make all young men madly in love with her."

"Very funny."

"Yes, I know. But we are not here to discuss my perfections, but yours. You are a relatively attractive and intelligent young man who, on occasion, can be genteel, even charming. Under normal circumstances, a woman might even consider you quite the catch. But these are not normal circumstances, and Miss Diana is not your average woman."

"Believe me, Alfred, I'm well aware of that."

"But Miss Diana is not. As far as she is concerned, the way of the Amazon is what is normal, and they do not look favorably on our sex."

"But she's not like them. She knows that not all men are evil…that relationships are possible between males and females."

"And how does she know that, sir?"

Bruce paused, and Alfred watched as the young man weighed his answer. "We've been reading together."

"And what have you been reading?"

"_The Aeneid._"

"How romantic. I suppose her favorite part is Aeneas's wife dying. Or perhaps Dido's suicide? Or maybe she enjoyed reading the death of the virgin warrior Camilla? Really, Master Bruce, I thought I had trained you better than that. Why are you not reading Mrs. Barrett Browning, Donne, or even Shakespeare?"

"She chose to read it! Besides, it's not like I'm going to be able to woo her with poetry. This isn't Victorian England. I'd have better luck giving her a new battle ax."

Alfred sniffed disdainfully. "Never underestimate the power of a carefully crafted sonnet, young man."

"She's a warrior, not a little girl whose head is full of romance."

"Alright, Casanova. Please explain how _you_ set about 'wooing' her."

"…She fell on the ground, and--"

"Excuse me, sir, did you say 'fell?' I thought you told me she was graceful."

The butler could not tell if Bruce's angry look was due to the question or some perceived slight on the fair maiden.

"We were sparring, and I performed a leg sweep, and she fell. What difference does it make?"

"Oh none, I'm sure."

The younger man pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply.

"She was on the ground. I bent over to see if she was alright, and," Bruce stole an uncomfortable glance at Alfred. "Never mind."

"I now see why your method is far superior to mine. Kiss the possibly concussed girl while she is still lying in the dirt. I'm surprised I had not thought of it sooner. Bravo, sir."

Bruce wrung his hands. "It wasn't like that. I touched her face, and she…"

"Yes?"

"It doesn't matter. She obviously didn't want me kissing her or she would have let me."

"All joking aside, Master Bruce, perhaps she was just conflicted. While this is natural to you, her attraction goes against everything she has been taught her entire life. That is not an easy obstacle to overcome."

"You _assume_ she is attracted to me. I don't. It makes more sense that she does not like me, and is just too good to intentionally embarrass me. I got carried away. It won't happen again."

Alfred highly doubted that.

"I think next time you should allow her to take control. Ask her permission. While it is not the most romantic approach, I think she will respect you for your honesty, and more importantly, leaving the decision up to her."

"There isn't going to be a next time, Alfred. I'm not going to put myself in situations where I can be rejected or laughed at." Bruce's gruff answer was somewhat counteracted by the light pink that tinged his cheeks.

"Do you really think Miss Diana would laugh at you?"

"No."

"Neither do I. If she did, she wouldn't deserve you."

Bruce let out a derisive laugh. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve her."

"Nonsense, sir. From what I have heard, you both seem well suited for one another."

"It's not like she has much choice. I'm the only male on the island."

"I will overlook that slight and simply say what you already know. Miss Diana would not settle for just anyone. She would be happier alone than with someone who was not her equal."

"That's nice. I'm still not going to pursue this."

The answer wasn't exactly promising, but Bruce's slowness in delivering it left some cause for hope. The butler could tell his words were having an effect.

""Of course you aren't, sir."

"Reverse psychology and sarcasm won't work on me. Now where's my morning paper?"

"Ah, yes." The Gotham Gazette lay forgotten by the stove. Retrieving then handing it over, Alfred took a leisurely sip of his tea.

As Bruce unfurled the serial, Alfred requested the local section. Sometimes there would be information on Leslie and her clinic.

The only response he received was that of a glass shattering. Alfred looked up from his tea and nearly spilled it. All the color had drained from Bruce's face, which looked about to crumple. His hand was bloodied, cut by his demolished glass.

Before the butler could say anything, Bruce rushed out of the room.

As the leaves of paper wafted to the ground, Alfred read the big, bolded letters of the Gotham Gazette's front page headline.

**Wayne Murderer Killed in Prison Plot**

* * *

Waiting for the guard to pass by, Diana took one last deep breath before slinking out into the darkness. Graced by Artemis, she easily escaped detection and within minutes was on her way to see Bruce.

It was a slow trek as Diana chose not to fly. Instead, she kept to the shadows, her senses on high alert. Her heart was already beating against her rib cage, and the sounds of the night were not helping the situation. Noises that she was deeply familiar with—birds calling to one another or deer traipsing through a thicket—seemed strange to her ears, and she felt lost.

Each step brought her closer to Bruce, and closer to the confrontation she had been dreading for the past week. She had thought this would be easier than continuing to avoid him, but she was wrong. There were so many questions and very few answers.

Should she pretend nothing had happened? Did he like her? Did he love her? How did she feel about him? Was he only meant to be her friend or did she want more? If she did feel something for him, would she have to give up everything? Would he eventually turn on her and her people?

Was any man worth all this trouble?

She was beginning to think no.

When she found him, she was already over an hour late.

_He's still waiting for me. _

Guilt and joy twisted her stomach.

He was standing underneath a tree, his back to her. The moonlight was broken by the leaves, shattered and scattered over his skin and the ground around him. The patches of silver revealed his rigid stance, tension visible in the taut lines of his body.

Before she talked herself out of it, Diana stepped forward.

"Bruce?"

He did not answer her, did not even turn around. She walked over to him a bit more quickly, nervous energy bubbling inside of her.

"Bruce?" she said a bit louder.

After a second's pause, he finally turned. His eyes were cold, withdrawn. He gave a brief nod, a courtesy reserved for strangers.

"Diana."

She took a step back, retracting her extended hand. This was worse than pretending nothing had happened. It was if they had regressed to when they had first met. She hated it.

Diana stopped directly in front of him. "I apologize for being late." Under his glacial stare, her confidence faltered, and her gaze fell to his feet. "About not showing up at our last practices and meetings…"

"Don't mention it."

"I should have given you some kind of warning."

"I understand you have other priorities."

Diana looked up. "That's not it at all. There's nothing more…" She blinked, hesitant to share with him his relative importance in her life. Fumbling for the right words and not finding any, she blurted out, "After what happe--"

He cut her off. "Like I said, don't mention it." The words glided easily through a perfunctory smile. Having not gone without it for months, the missing warmth in the familiar gesture sent chills down her spine.

"I'll let you decide today: spar or read," he politely offered.

His icy civility struck the wrong chord with her, and her voice rose in anger. "We aren't going to do either until we discuss what happened."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Say what you need to say," he replied.

Diana opened her mouth, but again the words wouldn't come. What did she need to say? Or more importantly, what would she allow herself to say?

She finally settled on, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He began walking away from her, and she grabbed his arm, yanking him so he faced her again. "That's it?! You almost kiss me, and now you want to pretend as if nothing happened?"

"Nothing _did_ happen."

His words were a crushing blow to her chest, and her face went slack with confusion and disbelief.

"But I thought…"

"Yes, Diana?" he asked patiently, even condescendingly. "What did you think?"

Faced with the possibility that she had imagined everything, Diana was humiliated and insecure. Even worse, it was as if her heart had been hollowed out.

She rubbed her forehead and eyes, like a small child just awoken from deep slumber. "I'm not sure anymore. I thought…you tried to kiss me."

"A mistake I promise I won't repeat."

She should have been happier that Bruce was at least acknowledging that something did happen.

"A mistake?"

"Yes."

Diana nodded in acceptance, swallowing her sudden and surprising disappointment. All that was left now was to fix their strained working relationship.

"And you aren't upset with me?" she asked, her throat tight with emotion. "Have I lost your friendship?"

"No."

Then why did she feel like she had lost everything?

"We should stop wasting valuable practice time," he added.

But neither Diana's heart nor mind were ready for sparring or reading.

"So that's it? You don't," she could feel herself fighting back tears, and her face flushed in embarrassment, but she needed to know. "You never wanted me?"

His eyes softened for a brief moment, then were back to the unaffected facade.

But it was enough.

Emboldened, she raised her hand and was just about to place it on his arm when his voice, low and threatening as an impending storm, cautioned her, "Don't."

This close to him, she was able to see outside of her own turbulent emotions. He was not well. It went past anger or wounded pride. His eyes were wild, and he looked pale. She was not prepared for the intense sorrow in his face.

Unable to stop herself, Diana reached for him again. "Tell me why you are hurting."

At her touch, Bruce shuddered, riddling her with guilt—guilt for hurting him and for being too wrapped up in her own insecurity to recognize it. Eyes searching his, she earnestly said, "I'm sorry, Bruce. I was just scared, and I didn't know what to do. Tell me what I did wrong, and I will fix it if I can."

He said nothing, but sank to his knees. Grabbing her about the waist, he rested his face against her stomach. Unsure of what to do, Diana held his head against her, stroking his hair with trembling fingers.

The material of her dress did not prove much of a barrier. The strain to control his emotions showed in his labored breathing. Every breath burned hot against her stomach, but heat, she told herself, was better than the damp of his tears. If he started crying, she didn't know what she would do.

Eventually his breathing evened out, and she chanced a step away. His hands tightened vise-like around her waist, and his gaze arrested her. Her heart broke at what she saw. She could no longer move away, but knelt in front of him.

She caressed his cheek. "It will be alright."

His grip enveloped hers, and he slowly extricated her hand from his face. When he didn't let go, Diana's eyes drifted down to their enjoined hands. A bright red wound marred his skin, and though it was not bleeding, it certainly looked painful.

"What happened?" she said, her voice soft.

"It's nothing."

He tried tearing his hand away but didn't succeed.

Frowning, she cradled his injured hand, gently running her fingers across the unbroken skin. Out of reflex, his fingers curled over hers. Realizing what she had been doing, she looked up, expecting to see him angry just as he had been that day at practice. Instead, his gaze bore into hers, dark with unmistakable longing.

Bruce leaned in slightly and stopped, dropping his eyes down to her lips before looking back at her. She could only stare at him as heat spread over her face.

He dipped his head down, brushing his nose against her cheek. His mouth was so close to hers she could feel it, and yet they were not touching, not breathing.

"Diana…?"

The rasp of his voice made her feel giddy.

"Yes?"

"May I," he paused and swallowed, "May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

She waited, wavering on a knife's edge between hunger and fear. Her breath hitched in her chest as he moved closer, taking her face in his hands.

At the press of his lips against her forehead, Diana's eyes drifted close. Soon her senses were full of him. The only thing she could comprehend was the softness of his mouth against her eyebrow, then her cheek.

His lips began moving closer to hers.

Diana wasn't ready. She pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

A soft huff of laughter escaped him, evanescing on her mouth. "I don't either…Do you want to stop?"

"No."

The seconds passed, but neither of them moved. Finally, Diana leaned forward, only to stop. "I can't do this," she said.

Bruce nodded his head, running a hand through his hair before dropping it at his side.

"You need to close your eyes."

His eyebrows rose at the command. She tried to explain, "I think it would be--."

"No, it's alright."

The violent blue of his eyes were now veiled.

Free of his intense stare, she studied him. His fists were clenched at his side, his jaw set on edge. His nervousness made her feel better. But only a little.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, and his muscles jumped under her touch. She inched closer, watching as he tried not to flinch or even move. Mirroring him, she closed her mouth.

Then she brought her lips to his.

It stayed that way for a few seconds, both of them barely touching, but then she leaned into him. The increase in pressure was a completely foreign and wonderful sensation, and she missed it the instant he pulled away.

"Bruce?"

She opened her eyes to see that his were still closed. Realizing he was waiting on her, she kissed him again. It was just as tentative as the first, and Diana relaxed into how utterly right it felt. Brushing her mouth against his, she began testing the different kinds of friction they could create.

It would have been perfect except he was holding back.

The next time she felt him begin to pull away, she didn't let him. Her fingers tightened around his hair, and he opened his eyes at the less than gentle tugging.

"Kiss me back," she ordered.

It was the invitation he needed. His touch was no longer gentle either, and his mouth crashed into hers.

Still unsure of what to do but pretty sure he didn't care, Diana closed her eyes and tried to keep pace with him. His arms wound tightly around her, crushing her to his chest as she gripped his shoulders. His mouth was possessive and unrelenting, bruising and biting at her lips. If she hadn't found it so pleasurable, she _might_ have been offended.

His lack of control, the palpable neediness and desperation of his kisses alerted her that there was something more, something deeper than their earlier misunderstanding that was bothering him. Deciding to weather his emotional storm before asking questions, she held on and gave in. The resulting cacophony of harsh breaths, strangled sighs, and teeth, flesh, and tongue meeting was the most exhilarating and dangerous experience of her life.

Without warning, she was awash in his feelings. She gasped, eyes burning with unshed tears, and he instantly pulled back.

"I'm sorry," he said, laboring for oxygen. "I didn--"

Her mouth was on his again. She could taste his doubt and insecurity. They gripped her heart, which determined right then and there he would never feel this way again. As the swirl of emotions threatened to drown her, she willed him to forget whatever it was that was hurting him.

No longer able to tell which feelings were hers and which were his, she kissed him until the only thing that remained was him and her.

It wasn't long before something else drifted in the corners of her consciousness, though it defied explanation or capture. It wasn't fiery or frantic, but it was breathtaking.

He pulled away, but not far. At the touch of his fingers against her temple, Diana's eyes fluttered open.

Had he felt it too?

Diana had not sensed it before, but now it was inescapable, pressing in from all sides.

Magic.

The air was ripe with it. She had always been sensitive to it, enjoyed a special kinship with the deep mysteries that knit her together. He could not see it, but he practically glowed with its luminance. It crackled on her skin, seeping into her marrow, her very being. Her soul welcomed its comforting familiarity as much as it trembled in the shadows of its terrible, unsearchable depths. Here was the power of beginnings and life, of death and of loss. She would either be remade or undone, and both options were equally frightening.

It looked as if Bruce was going to say something, but no words came. He just stared at her as the seconds elapsed, their loud breathing the only thing interrupting the silence.

His hands fell away from her stunned face down to her wrists, and she could only watch as he played with one of her gauntlets. Not sure what he was trying to do, she almost jumped when the metal bracer clanged loudly to the ground, causing some birds to flee from their resting spots in the branches above their heads.

The sight of her bare, unprotected flesh startled her, and she jerked her hand back, but he held it tightly. She stopped struggling. His fingers played with the other gauntlet, and it too tumbled to the ground.

Having only taken the bracelets off when she had outgrown them—and then they were always immediately replaced with new ones—she was accustomed to the unrelenting metal. Now, for the first time in years, the cool air floated across the pale skin.

Bruce raised both wrists up to his lips and kissed them softly, his eyes intently fixed on hers. Her panic melted away at the odd display of affection. Without knowing it, Diana exhaled in relief.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, his voice blending in seamlessly with the loveliness of the warm night.

He settled against the trunk of the tree and pulled her with him. Her back was to his chest, and he rested his chin in the curve between her neck and shoulder. His hands found her wrists again and moved against the sensitive skin before joining their hands together over her stomach. Unable to keep silent any longer, she quietly asked, "What are you thanking me for?"

"Our first kiss."

"Just the first one?" she asked, trying to hide her nervousness with humor.

His arms tightened around her, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "No, the other ones too."

As they sat there, Diana's heart raced even faster, recalling what had just happened. She had let him touch and kiss her. Had even ordered him to do it.

Why didn't she feel guilty? Should she feel guilty? Would there be anything more between them? What would her mother think?

Closing her eyes, she zeroed in on the rhythmic rise and fall of Bruce's chest against her back.

"How can you be so calm?" she asked.

"I'm not." He placed her fingers on his wrist. His pulse throbbed under her touch.

"Bruce, I'm scared."

He did not answer at first, but when he did, Diana could hear the hurt in his voice. "Of me?"

The idea of him hurting her, spoken aloud, seemed ridiculous to her, and she was sorry her mind had even suggested it. "No. It's just that everything's so new, and I'm not sure how I should feel…I want to tell my mother."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not? Is what we are doing wrong?"

"No."

"Then we shouldn't hide it from her?"

"Your mother barely tolerates me. She doesn't even know you are here, that you've been secretly meeting me for months. How do you think she's going to react to that?"

"She will be upset, but she will learn to accept you. I will make her."

"You'll only make her angry."

"You don't know my mother."

"She is an Amazon. That's all I need to know."

"I am an Amazon too," Diana said, her tone indignant.

"Hardly."

Diana's jaw dropped, and for a second she was unable to say anything. When she regained power over her voice, she said, "Why would you say that? That is the most hurtful thing you could have possibly said to me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, how am I supposed to interpret that?! Being an Amazon is the most important thing about me."

"I disagree."

She sat stone still, petrified with rage.

"Diana…until I met you, not one of your people had treated me with kindness. They talked to me as if I were worthless, like I was an animal. I was nine years old!"

"I'm sorry that they acted that way toward you, but my mother is not Antiope. If she had known—"

"But she didn't take the time to find out. Not until you were involved."

Diana sighed.

"You're right," she said. "And I wish it had been different for you, I really do, but I'm tired of sneaking around in the dark just to see you, as if we were doing something shameful or bad."

"Are you ashamed?"

"I would feel better about it if I could tell her."

"You didn't answer the question, Diana."

"No, I am not. But it's difficult not to feel like I should be."

He tensed behind her. "I shouldn't have done this."

Diana turned around to see him, but his eyes were downcast. Taking his face in her hands, she waited till he was looking at her before she spoke.

"I have also never been happier, and I want my mother to know that, and that it's because of you."

The smile that lit up his face was beautiful, and she wished their conversation was over so she could enjoy it.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

"I still don't think it's wise to tell your mother," Bruce said. "Not yet, at least."

"I will wait, but I want to know why."

"You aren't the only one who is scared, Diana."

"Why should you be afraid? You haven't broken thousands of years of tradition by falling for the enemy."

"No, but if you tell your mother and she rejects you, you will ostracize yourself from the rest of your people. You will have lost your family for nothing."

_Not for nothing._

"But why are you scared?" she said, barely above a whisper. "What does that have to do with you?"

His hands gripped hers, but relaxed when he realized what he was doing.

"Do you think I want to hurt you? If you are with me, your people will abandon you. You shouldn't have to choose between me and your family. It would be one thing if I was staying here, but…"

"You're leaving?" The air seemed to rush out of her chest. It was not fair. The goddesses could not be so cruel as to take him away from her just as she was realizing how much she cared for him.

"Diana, I _have_ to leave this island, but I…I don't think I could lose you."

"Then stay here."

"I have to go back to Gotham City. I don't think I was ever supposed to stay here permanently, but Athena won't let me go, and she won't tell me why."

A flash of guilt rose up within her, but she knew now was not the time to talk about the curse. But soon, she would tell him soon.

"Why do you have to leave?" she asked, instead.

He struggled for an answer. "You wouldn't understand…I'm not sure I even know. Not anymore." His fists clenched at his sides, and she could see the strain and reluctance with which his next words were said. "But I don't belong here."

But she had seen the magic embrace him. Unless…

"Do you think Athena was using me as some kind of…diversion? To keep you from wanting to leave?" She tried to sound detached, but she knew her question came out in defeated tones.

Strong fingers turned her face.

"It doesn't matter. I know you aren't a diversion." His mouth found hers again, and she learned that more things than desire could be communicated through the simple action.

When they broke apart, she whispered, "I don't want you to go."

"I'm still here, but now that I want to be here…I will leave. You need to know the risks before you grow more attached to me."

"But what about you? What of your risks?"

He stared straight at her, eyes serious. "It's too late for me."

"You're in love with me?"

She saw him blush, his lips twisting in a lopsided smile. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"But it's so soon. We just…" But it wasn't that soon, and they hadn't just met. It had been almost a year, with countless hours together. For the most part the time was enjoyably spent. She nearly always left him looking forward to the next time they would meet. The only person who knew her better was Hippolyta, and even then, he knew her in ways her mother never could. He treated her as an equal, challenged and valued her. She was a better person because of him. If she hadn't been raised the way she had, who was to say she wouldn't be in love with him too?

"I don't expect you to feel the same way," he said, chin raised.

"How long?"

He grimaced, "I'd rather not say."

She nodded her head. "I understand…and I think, if you give me a little more time…I care for you very much, as much as I know how to."

"Don't get me wrong, I want you to say it back and mean it, but it's not something I can expect or demand from you."

Diana raised a brow. "If I recall correctly, I'm the one who has been making demands of you."

"Just don't do it out of guilt. I won't want it."

Diana leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. "Don't worry, Bruce. You make it very easy for me to like you."

His laughter vibrated under her cheek. "It wasn't always like that."

"Yes, you were horrible when I first met you. A real pig."

"You weren't so great yourself."

"That's not what you said when I put you in the lasso."

He didn't answer.

She turned her face upwards, smiling at him, "If it makes you feel better, you are the most handsome man I've ever seen."

She curled her finger under his chin, which he batted away, rolling his eyes. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"I do find you very handsome, though."

The way he blushed made her want to laugh. "You aren't so bad yourself," he said.

She did not know how long they sat there, him playing with her hands and dusting her face with light kisses. It must have been hours.

Finally he said, "It's getting late."

Bruce stood to his feet, and held out a helping hand. She tugged on it, smiling up at him, but he didn't budge.

"Five more minutes," she said.

She could see Bruce try, but he could not wipe the grin from his face. "Sorry, Diana, practice is over."

"Ten more minutes."

Bruce knelt before her, his eyes apologetic. "Rules are rules, even for princesses."

"Couldn't we bend them, just this once?"

"If we bend the rules now we're just going to keep doing it." He stood up again, this time succeeding in pulling the reluctant Diana to her feet.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she heaved an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes you are no fun."

"As long as that's clear." A mischievous glint lit up his eyes as he pulled her close, his mouth poised millimeters from hers. "I think I can bend one rule, but just for tonight, and only because you're my girlfriend."

"Is that what I am? A girlfriend?"

"_My _girlfriend."

"And that makes you…?"

"Your boyfriend."

"I like the sound of that."

"I do too."

And then he kissed her again.

It was only half an hour later, when she was flying home, that Diana remembered she hadn't gotten to ask Bruce why he was so upset when she found him. As she crawled in the window, she made a mental note to discuss it the next time she saw him.

Pulling off her sandals, she threw a robe over her chiton and padded to the door. She was hungry and needed a snack. Cracking the door open, light spilled across her toes.

Diana squinted, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the torches lining the walls.

Floating down the hallways, it was only a matter of minutes before she was heading back to her room, plate of fruit in hand.

She was just in about to enter her door, when a voice halted her forward progress.

"Diana."

Startled, Diana saw a few grapes roll to the ground, only to be trampled under the sandal of her aunt.

"General Antiope."

"Why are you awake at this hour?"

Diana looked pointedly at her plate. "I was hungry."

"Well, since you are up, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you. I would have mentioned it sooner, but you never seem to be around."

She did not like the direction the conversation was taking or the accusation lacing Antiope's words.

"My schedule is not a secret."

"True, but the matter is not something suitable for the ears of a man…or those sympathetic to them."

The underhanded jab at Alexandra did not go unnoticed by Diana. "It's three in the morning. This can't wait until tomorrow?"

"I have reason to believe that the man has been crossing into our territory, and I wanted to know if you knew anything about that."

"I do not, but even if I did, why would that be important? One intruder could hardly stand against the might of a city of Amazons."

"While this may seem silly to you, there are things you do not know, things you cannot comprehend that make this a significant issue."

"I am aware of the curse if that's what you mean. My mother apprised me of Bruce's… situation."

"Well, then, you should understand the need for vigilance."

Quite frankly she did not, but it would be better for Bruce and her if Antiope did not suspect anything.

"As you know, I have been unable to attend your practices for some time, but my soldiers have been instructed to keep an eye on Bruce."

Diana was not aware of their spying and wasn't sure if she could believe her aunt. Bruce would have known about something like this, would have told her.

"What cause do you have for thinking he is trespassing?"

"Call it an intuition. I have always told you he is trouble, Diana."

"I'm sure my mother has already informed you that Bruce hardly says anything to me during practice. I am hardly going to know what he is doing when I'm not around."

"It is as I thought, but I would rather have answers than assumptions."

"I'm glad I could help. Now if you don't mind…" Much as she tried, Diana could not keep the curtness from her voice or stop her yawn. She leaned against the door, her free hand raised to cover her mouth. The soft material of her sleeve fell down, tickling her arm. She was about to say goodnight, when her aunt's eyes narrowed, looking sharply at her.

Diana followed Antiope's line of sight and tried to keep calm when she realized what had caught her aunt's attention.

"Where is your gauntlet?" The general reached for Diana's hand, but Diana pulled it away.

"I took them off."

"_Both_ of them?"

Diana nearly cringed at her mistake.

"I could understand one being broken, but both them? Perhaps I should speak with the blacksmiths about the shoddiness of their craftsmanship."

"That won't be necessary. I only took them off the night." Antiope tried peering around her, but Diana would not move from the doorway.

"Those are not the terms. We are to wear them at all times. It is our punishment." Diana never understood why Antiope was so fastidious about the bracelets. The general did not even believe she deserved the retribution of the goddesses. It did, however, fit with Antiope's legalistic bent of mind. She was scrupulous to a fault, and therefore able to justify finding fault with everyone else.

"No need to worry, Aunt Antiope. I am having them cleaned tomorrow. I did not want to forget, so I took them off as a reminder." Or at least she would be getting them cleaned as soon as she got them back from Bruce.

The general didn't respond, and Diana felt her skin crawl under Antiope's scrutiny.

Acting more confidently than she felt, Diana looked at her aunt expectantly. "Anything else? It's really late, and I'm very tired."

"No, that's all for now, but if you notice anything out of the ordinary, make sure to report it to me."

"Goodnight." And with that, Diana shut the door.

She walked over to bed, setting aside her plate. She was no longer hungry.

How could she forget her bracelets? If someone found them, there could be no more hiding. While that was her ultimate goal, she would rather introduce the idea of Bruce and her in a more flattering light.

She debated whether she should go back to the field and get them, but in the end she didn't think it was necessary. Convinced that after finding such happiness the goddesses would not take it away, Diana quickly fell asleep.

* * *

**To Be Continued

* * *

**

Anonymous Review Replies:

**biggest fan**- lol, thanks, I've always wanted one (a biggest fan, that is). **:D** I'm sorry you feel tortured. I do wish I could write faster, but it doesn't seem to work that way for me. I hope you liked the latest chapter, and that the drama and suspense wasn't too painful. Thanks for reviewing.

**togood**- I hope chapter 16 was worth your wait. **:D **Thanks for the review.

**holly- **Hi holly. That always struck me as a happy name, and I like it. **:D **So this is what happened next, and I have to say it couldn't happen soon enough (I heart BMWW and wanted them together from chapter one, lol). But now I have to resolve the other issues I raised. Thanks for your kind words, and I'm glad you are enjoying the mythology. I think it's a big love of mine, since I seem to keep coming back to it in all my newest story ideas. So it's nice to see other find it a fun addition. Thanks for reviewing!

**ilove**-thanks for the review. it left a smile on my face. You got your kisses. **:D**

**jlufan**- thanks for the lesson in the judicial system. I have not yet read Plato's Apology, though I might get around to it one of these days. If I do, and I'm still writing this story, I will leave a note. **:D**

**d**-ah! my faithful friend, I hope you are well. Like Hippolyta, I think everyone in this story has an intense story, lol. It kind of makes it unbelievable, but whatever, I'm dealing with creatures that can fly and prefer to spend their time in dank caves with bats. I should be able to suspend belief. **:D **Considering how much reviewer hate I'm getting for Antiope, I have to say I actually like Antiope more than Hippolyta, or at least I am more sympathetic. I think Hippolyta is a bit incompotent as I've portrayed her (it's my fault, though I didn't do it intentionally), and if I were Antiope, I'd be pretty upset with her ruling track record thus far, but that's me.

Here is there real kiss! I hope it met expectations. After holding it off for so long, I'm worried it didn't cut the mustard. This is actually a second incarnation. I have a whole other first smooch scene saved that I might try to include in some other form later. I wrote it way back in the beginning when I first started writing the story, but as I kept going, it didn't seem to fit anymore. I promise there will be a whole revelation scene where Bruce learns everything. I hate it when authors put things off just to keep people reading, and I swear I'm not doing it for suspense. It just doesn't seem right to reveal things now, like I haven't set it up properly.

I'm glad you are finding Diana believable. My beta could tell you that sometimes I'm afraid I make her too wussy or too naive. I want her to be really empowered by the end, but for now she is just figuring out who she is and what she does and does not believe and how Bruce and her feelings fit into that. And of course Bruce is discouraged. LOL he's a bit of a baby. Runs at the first sight of love danger. But he's growing up too. Yeah, I'm not so much a fan of one step forward, two steps back, but really their romance is supposed to add tension to the rest of the happenings (which have taken a back seat to this slow build up), so it kind of has to be like that. Sorry. **:(**

I'm glad Diana has Alexandra too. I made her too isolated, so it's about time I added a suitable girl friend for her.

Thanks again for the grammar corrections. If I haven't fixed it already, I will. And as always, thanks for reviewing!

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Please leave feedback. Thanks for reading.


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